


10 Minutes After Midnight

by Mizuni_no_neko



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Doctor!Alfred, FACE Family, Fallout AU, M/M, Mercenary!Ivan, Minor Germany/North Italy (Hetalia), Minor Prussia/Belarus, Past England/France (Hetalia), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, Tags May Change, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-01-07 05:01:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 66,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18403619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizuni_no_neko/pseuds/Mizuni_no_neko
Summary: War. War never changes.The history of mankind has been one of war. From the Mongol Invasion to Germany's attempt on Europe, man has spent hundreds of thousands of years killing his fellow man. Evolving his tools from sticks and stones to weapons of mass destruction.When atomic fire consumed the Earth on October 23, 2077, those who survived did so in great underground vaults. One such vault was Vault 50, a vault where time never stopped, and America never fell into apocalyptic chaos. It is from this vault that Alfred Jones, an All-American boy from Vault Town, USA, will come stumbling out into the Wasteland.Out there, he expected to find civilization. Drive-ins and diners, parks and playgrounds. Instead, he would be greeted with the post-apocalyptic nuclear hell hole that had been Dallas, Texas: The North Texas Wasteland.





	1. Out of the Vault

**Author's Note:**

> I know, I should be working on Dreamscape. I was. I'm not now. Idk, I don't really like the idea anymore, but the rewrite (what I have of it) it some of my best work. Idk what to do with it. Maybe post what I have and leave it incomplete, but available for anyone interested. Or just give up on it. 
> 
> Anyway, this is something I've wanted to do for a long, long time. And in fact have been working on for quite a while. Idk how far I'll get on this one, but I just wanted to post the first chapter and get some feedback before I explode from not knowing how you guys are going to like it. I have 5 chapters written already, and am about a third of the way through the story, I think? Oh, and that's another thing. I actually planned this one out! I have an outline and everything. 
> 
> Carlos - Cuba

“Alfred, slow down!” His mother called from down the hallway where he had left her in the metaphorical dust. Alfred giggled and shot off around the corner, breaking into full-blown laughter as he heard her groan.

He grinned wide, his heart beating hard in his chest as he ran like the wind through the corridors of Vault 50. He knew he should slow down before he crashed and hurt himself or someone else, but he was just so excited! His first day of real, honest-to-god school! Not nursery school to keep him out from under the adult's feet, not Sunday school where all they learned about was the Bible, real school!

“Alfred! Wait for me!” He heard another voice call. Smaller and softer, with a distinct wheeze in it, this actually made the boy slow to a walk so that his younger twin could catch up.

“Mattie, you know you're not supposed to run!” Alfred chastised. “You'll get all breathe-y and you might fall over.” He frowned, taking his brother's arm and wrapping it around his shoulder for good measure.

“I can too run!” Matthew insisted. “I ran all the way down the hallway to find you and I didn't even-” He paused to take a deep, rattling breath, coughing for a moment to clear his lungs. “I didn't even get light-headed!”

“I think you're a liar liar pants on fire.” Alfred huffed. “Don't run like that or you'll get even sicker.”

Matthew just glared at him. “Well maybe you shouldn't run so I don't have to catch up!” He snapped, pushing himself off of his brother.

Alfred hung his head and scuffed his shoe on the metal floor of the Vault. “I'm sorry.” He murmured morosely. “I'm just so excited! Its our first day of real school and I want to get there as fast as possible.” He whined.

Matthew chuckled. “I know, Al. Just...don't leave me behind.” He asked. His voice sounded weird, like he was real sad.

“Heroes don't leave their sidekicks behind!” Alfred declared with a grin, trying to chase the sadness away.

“Who said anything about me being your sidekick?” Matthew huffed. The sadness was gone, for now. Some day, he'd make it go away for good. He was gonna be the best doctor in the world and cure everyone in town, and heal Mattie so that he could run and play like all of the other kids.

“Well we can't both be the Hero!” Alfred protested, pouting. “And I'm the Hero!”

“Alright, Al. You're the Hero.” Mattie agreed, a small smile on his face. “Which means its your fault if we're late for class.” His smile turned to a smirk as he slipped out from under Alfred's arm. Alfred let out a squeak and scurried into the classroom after his brother.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“Tell me the story again, Grandpa!” little Alfred begged, his eyes wide and full of crocodile tears.

“Enough of that, boy. You don't want to hear any more of that silly old bedtime story.” Arthur rebuffed him gruffly.

“But I do! I want to hear all about the Wasteland!” He begged. “I want to hear about Canton and the Mutants and the Ghouls!

“It'll give you nightmares, boy.” Arthur scoffed.

“It will not!” Alfred insisted.

“That's not what your mother said.” Arthur smirked. “She told me you had nightmares for three weeks after I told you the first time.”

“That's slander! Defamation of character!” He protested.

“Have you been watching those legal drama holodisks again?” Arthur sighed.

“I object!” Alfred grinned, waved his tiny, chubby fist in the air.

“I'll take that as a yes, then.” Arthur shook his head, chuckling fondly.

“So you'll tell me the story, right?” Alfred beamed, looking up at his grandfather sweetly. Arthur could feel his resolve crumbling with every second he looked into those big, blue eyes. Just like his mother's.

“Alright, alright. I'll tell you the story.” He relented, a scowl on his face. “But for heaven's sake, lad, sit down!”

Alfred plopped his little 6-year-old butt on the floor in front of his grandfather, eager eyes wide and honed in on Arthur with laser-focus.

“So there I was, searching through the reactor level for the leak our sensors had detected, when suddenly I saw a crack in the metal hull of the Vault....”

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred sighed as he trudged down the hallway to his Grandpa Arthur's quarters. He was already tired from his shift in the medbay, and he just wanted to go home and relax. But the old man had fallen down the stairs last week, and while his broken hip healed up it was Alfred's responsibility to check in on him as his doctor and his grandson.

“Quick, boy, get in here. You're letting the heat out.” His grandfather said, waving him through the door as it opened with a pneumonic hiss. His grandfather lay sprawled in his arm chair, his legs encased in a cast from hip to ankle. His green eyes were bright and alert, quick and dangerous like a cat's. 

“You haven't been taking your pain pills.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and crossing the room to yank open the medicine box.

“They cloud my mind!” Arthur said, snarling. Al counted out two of the little white pills and dropped them into a cup. 

“Pain clouds the mind. Take the pills.” Alfred said, handing him the cup and a glass of water. 

“Pain sharpens the mind, boy. But what would you know about that?” He asked, staring at the pills like a couple of poisonous snakes. 

“Take your pills, grandpa.” Alfred said, refusing to rise to the bait. He was tired of having this argument, he knew where it was leading. It seemed like all they ever talked about anymore. 

“I've had worse than a broken hip, boy. When I was your age, I got shot straight through the shoulder. Didn't have any pain pills then, did I?” Arthur said, grumbling. 

“Grandpa, you didn't get shot. You fell off of a ladder onto a rivet that hadn't been bolted in properly. Mom told me the story already.” Al countered listlessly. 

“I did get shot!” Arthur protested, “I was in Majestic, drinking in Auditorium 9, when some upjumped Raider with a bad attitude comes in and-” 

Alfred let himself drift off as his grandfather began his retelling. He didn't need to listen, he'd already heard every detail. He could recite the story by heart by now. The Raider accuses grandpa of sleeping with his wife. Grandpa denies it. Turns out its actually true. Cue huge bar fight. Grandpa escapes. Takes a misfire from some drunk idiot across the street. Cue joke about irony. 

He sometimes wondered if maybe his mind was starting to go. The stories had been entertaining when he was a kid, but back then stories were all they had been. Now, Arthur seemed to think his fantastical bedtime stories were true. And he'd become paranoid, convinced the Overseer knew he knew the way out of the Vault and was out to get him. He'd even told Alfred that the Overseer had him pushed. He was starting to worry that maybe it wasn't safe to let him live on his own.

“Alfred, pay attention!” His grandfather huffed, rapping him over the head with his cane. Arthur Kirkland had no patience for his grandson's short attention span. Alfred rubbed his head and turned back to his grandpa, scowling.

“Were you even listening?” Arthur grumbled, scowling back.

“I heard everything you said!” Alfred protested. “I've heard the story a thousand times. And that's exactly what it is, a story. The Overseer says-”

“I know what the Overseer says, boy!” Arthur interrupted. “And I'm telling you, that old loon is full of it, drunk on power. I've been to the Wasteland. When I was a young boy, not much older than you, I found a gap in the reactor tunnel. I sque-”

“You squeezed through and it led to a crack in the rock, which let out into a cave, which led out to the surface. So you say.” He stressed. “But no one else has ever seen this gap, or the crack, or the cave, or the Wasteland!”

“So you believe this rubbish? About this virus that has failed to kill any of its carriers?” Arthur sneered.

“Of course. That's why they give us our medicine every day. To keep us alive despite the virus.” Alfred answered earnestly.

“Bah! Those pills addle your brain. Think, boy! Why would they pay good money keeping us alive for generations if we carry such a dangerous disease?” He asked.

“To study us and find out how to cure it?” Alfred shrugged. He just wanted to get back home and relax. He didn't have time for his dumb grandpa and his stupid stories.

“Why cure it if all of the carriers live here in the Vault, and letting us die would be the same as destroying the virus?” Arthur reasoned.

“Because they aren't terrible? Of course they don't want to just let us die!” Alfred argued indignantly. “You just want to believe the worst in people.”

“Fine, don't believe me? Stop taking your pills for a week, see the difference for yourself.” Arthur sniffed, crossing his arms.

“Do you want to kill me, grandpa!? If I don't take my pills, I could die!” He screeched.

“I haven't taken a single pill in 30 years.” Arthur asserted. “And I'm just fine.”

“Just fine?” Alfred snorted. “You're delusional! You sit around all day, yelling at your Pip-Boy and insisting that America is a nuclear wasteland. You talk about Canton and giant green men and people that look like corpses, but no one else has ever seen any of this! No one else has even seen the gap you used to get out.”

“That's why they closed off part of the reactor level.” Arthur said, smug satisfaction written across his face.

“You're making that up! They closed it off because there was a leak and they had to shut that reactor down.” Alfred said, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I'm not making it up! I have a map!” Arthur insisted.

“I've seen the map, grandpa! You drew that yourself.” Alfred said. It was a ratty old thing drawn on dirty leather, the distances crude and the markings confusing. 

“I did not! I bought it from a traveling merchant who packed all of his wares on a cow with two heads!” Arthur insisted.

“And you wonder why I don't believe you! Cows don't have two heads, Grandpa! And your map is all wrong!” He grumbled, pulling out a map he had taken from the classroom. “We're 10 miles from Dallas, with 3 square miles of bare land above us, guarded by an electrified fence. It's on all of the maps in the Vault! But you have Canton less than a stone's throw away from the Vault, and what you've labeled “Dallas Ruins” is a lot smaller than downtown.” Alfred explained, gesturing to the map to illustrate each point.

“They update these maps every few years with fake projections, ideas of what Dallas would have looked like if it continued to grow. But the truth is that Dallas hasn't gotten any bigger since the day they sealed my grandfather in here. The bombs fell sometime after we were tricked into being trapped here.” Arthur explained, his voice somber and serious. The look in his eyes – a mixture of sorrow, contempt, and resignation – struck a chord within Alfred, and for a moment he opened his mind.

“What do they get from saving a bunch of sick people, when healthy ones were left to die?” He asked. “Why us?”

“Why us?” Arthur asked back. “That, I cannot say. What I can say, is that we aren't sick, not a one of us except your brother, and that's a whole different beast. I told you, I haven't taken a single pill they've given me in 30 years. And I'm not the only one. Watch your parents tonight at dinner, when they take their pills. You'll see what I mean.”

Alfred opened his mouth to argue, then closed it. It was a simple enough request. “Alright, I'll watch. But when mom and dad take their pills, you gotta stop it with this talk, alright? You're gonna get both of us in trouble!”

“Alfred, my dear boy,” Arthur sighed, giving his grandson a troubled look. “I wouldn't be telling you this if I didn't think we weren't already all in trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked, frowning.

“That's a discussion for another time, when you trust me more. Go home, have dinner with your family. And don't say anything to Matthew.” He warned.

“Wouldn't dream of it.” He agreed, grabbing his lab coat and slipping out the door. “I'll see you tomorrow, Grandpa!” He called, waving goodbye.

“Of course. ” Arthur waved back, the light from the hallway glinting off the shotgun hung on the wall.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred scurried home, checking the time on his Pip-Boy. He had wanted to stop back by the medbay and pick up some of his paperwork, maybe ask Dr. Edelstein a few professional questions before his boss went home for the night, but arguing with his grandfather had set him back, and now he was running late for dinner.

“Alfred! Dinner is starting, hurry up!” His mother called, hands on her hips, as he rounded the corner. “Come take your medicine.”

'I will if you do.' He thought mutinously to himself.

He said nothing as he ducked into their apartment, sliding into the chair opposite Mattie, who slid a tray of food from the Cafeteria and a little cup of pills to him.

“You're late.” Matt sing-songed. Alfred looked around to make sure his parents weren't looking, and then flipped him off.

“I was with Grandpa Arthur. You know that. I've been late or cut it close almost every day since he broke his hip.” Alfred reminded him.

“Such a selfless act.” Matt teased. “It's almost like you didn't whine for the whole first week.”

Alfred stuck his tongue out at him and flipped a bean at him. It missed and landed in their mother's rubber plant.

“Boys!” She reprimanded them, taking her seat and giving them both sharp looks.

“Sorry, Mom.” They mumbled in unison, doing their best to look contrite while trying to stifle their laughter.

“So, Alfred, how was work?” His father asked, throwing back his pills with a drink of water. Alfred calmed himself, a smile still in his eyes even as he watched his father closely.

“It went pretty well, I guess. Same old.....” Alfred paused, noticing the telltale bulge of unswallowed pills in his dad's cheek, which disappeared suspiciously as he “wiped his mouth” with his napkin. “Same old.” He finished weakly, the laughter going out of his eyes.

His mother gave him a worried look. “Are you alright, Alfred?” She asked. His eyes darted down to her napkin. A wet spot gave it away, transparent enough to see the blue of one of the pills through. Neither of them had taken their dose.

“Uh...y-yeah, I'm fine.” He lied as the world spun around him. They hadn't taken their pills. Maybe they never had.

“Go ahead and take your pills, sweetie. You're running late on your dose.” She urged him gently. Alfred gave her a weak smile and picked up the cup of pills. An assortment of colors and shapes, with names Alfred didn't know, and probably couldn't pronounce.

He looked at them for a moment, taking a deep breath. His hand shook, and he could only hope that he was the only one who noticed. He was intensely aware of his own heartbeat, and how loud it seemed in his ears. He'd been told his entire life that without these medications, he would be dead in hours. And he was about to skip a dose for the first time. He's never been so grateful for a pounding heart before.

He knocked the pills back, shoving them in his cheek as he took a drink. “I'll be fine in a minute.” He assured her. She ran a hand through his hair, and for a moment Alfred wondered if she'd seen him do it.

He watched Mattie take his pills, not sure if he should be relieved or worried that he actually swallowed them. He'd always had a few more than the rest of them, and despite being the medical intern, he didn't know which ones helped and which ones hurt.

“So, you were talking about work?” Matt prompted, taking a bite out of his bread. Alfred spit the pills out into his napkin as discreetly as he could, laying it down on the table.

“Oh, yeah. Well, it was pretty uneventful, really. I'm just an intern, after all. Dr. Edelstein sees all of the patients and does all of the research. I just fetch and carry, mostly.” He shrugged.

“Don't sell yourself short, dear. I'm sure you're a great help to the good doctor.” His mother cooed fondly. “We are just so proud of you. We all knew you'd do well on the G.O.A.T.”

“Yeah, well, I'm still just learning. I'd like to do more, honestly. I feel like I should at least be sitting in on some of his examinations.” He sighed. He felt like he was learning a lot about what it took to run a clinic, but not much at all about how to treat patients.

“What about you, Mom?” He asked, redirecting the question.

“Oh, it wasn't very eventful. Did some paperwork, graded homework, taught my classes. Nothing out of the ordinary. What about you, dear?” She asked her husband.

“All's quiet in the reactor level. You can all sleep tight knowing there aren't any leaks.” He assured them. “What did you do today, Matt?” He asked.

“I watched a few holotapes, walked around the Vault a bit, read a book.” He shrugged.

“It's good that you're getting exercise.” Alfred nodded in approval. “Your strength will come back faster if you keep moving.” He assured him.

“Can do, doc.” Matt grinned, giving him a jaunty, teasing salute. Alfred kicked him under the table.

“You should probably get back to bed for now, though.” Al told him. “It's getting late.”

“You're right.” Matthew yawned, rising from his seat and shuffling to their shared bedroom. “I'm gonna call it a night. You guys sleep tight.” He called, setting his tray in the bin.

Alfred watched Matt go, only turning to his parents when he was sure Matt was in their room. He fixed serious eyes on them, sizing them each up.

“I think I'm gonna hit the showers and then go to bed, myself.” He said, finishing off the rest of his food and cleaning up after himself. “Goodnight!” He called. His parents bid him goodnight back, and he slipped into the showers to think.

This was gonna be a long shower.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

His mother was waiting for him in his bedroom when he got out of the shower. She sat perched on his bed, looking older and more tired than he had ever seen her. Crossing the room in a few faltering steps, Alfred sat delicately beside her, holding himself like a breath.

“I brought your clothes in.” She started, gesturing to the basket of folded laundry by the foot of the bed.

“Thanks.” He said, staring at it like a snake would jump out and bite him at any moment.

“Alfred....” His mother started, pausing as if to find the words. “You know I love you, right?” She asked.

“Of course, Mom. I love you, too.” He said, eyeing her warily. She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes.

“I just....want to make sure you remember, okay?” She said, cupping her hand around his face and gently swiping a thumb across his cheek.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, a strange fear he couldn't quite comprehend coming over him suddenly.

“Everything's fine, dear.” She assured him, her hand falling to his shoulder as she bent over to press a soft kiss to his forehead. “Get some rest. The work day always-”

“Starts earlier than you think.” Alfred finished for her. “Goodnight, mom.”

“Goodnight, Alfred.” She said, slipping out of his room with one last, indecipherable smile.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred got to the clinic early the next morning, hoping to beat the doctor there and take a look at the pill labels. But as he rounded the corner, he saw shadows on the walls and heard voices coming from the clinic. He stopped, not wanting to walk in on an examination when he hadn't been asked, when one of the voices came out clear enough to be heard.

“Do you think the boy suspects anything?” Someone said. It was the Overseer, he'd know that voice anywhere. He flattened himself against the wall and trained his ears on the conversation.

“Alfred? He hasn't given me a reason to think so, no. He works hard, but I've never caught him snooping or trying to stay after hours. Nothing's come up missing, or where it shouldn't be. He hasn't asked any untoward questions.” Dr. Edelstein answered. “Why?”

“His grandfather is Arthur Kirkland.” The Overseer told him, his voice dripping with contempt.

“Surely even Kirkland wouldn't involve a boy in such matters?” Dr. Edelstein scoffed.

“You don't know the man like I do, Doctor.” The Overseer shot back. “It's best to be careful with that man. He's dangerous, even now.”

“I'll tell you if I come to suspect anything, but I assure you Alfred has given me no cause to doubt his loyalty, or his ignorance.”

“If he does, I want to be the first to know.” The Overseer asserted coldly.

“Of course, sir. You will be notified immediately.” The Doctor agreed.

Footsteps sounded through the hallway, coming right for Alfred. He hurriedly bounced off of the wall and started walking down the hallway at a clipped pace, fiddling with his Pip-Boy. He cleanly side-stepped the Overseer as he came around the corner, giving him a polite nod and a casual “Overseer, sir.”

“Jones. A moment, please.” He called, and Alfred stopped in his tracks, turning to face him.

“Yes, Mr. Overseer?” He asked, his heart racing. Had he been too loud coming up the hallway the first time? He had been so sure they hadn't heard him.

“How is your grandfather? I heard you've been taking care of him.” He asked, a deceptively kind smile on his face. The same smile Alfred had seen a million time and thought genuine.

“Oh, he's doing fine. You know him, nothing slows that old coot down. He'll be up on his feet scaring the Vault children in no time.” He laughed, hoping it didn't sound half as hollow to the Overseer as it did to him.

“Good to hear. You tell him I said hello, won't you?” He asked, patting Alfred on the shoulder firmly.

“Of course, Sir. I'll let him know you send your best.” He grinned back, wanting to throw the man's hand off of his shoulder and run the opposite direction. He could dismiss his parents not taking their pills, he could even brush off the fact that he wasn't dead after not taking his. But this was confirmation, beyond a doubt. Something was going on here, and it wasn't good.

“Don't work too hard!” The Overseer laughed, heading back down the hallway.

“Same to you, sir.” Alfred grinned, feigning tipping a hat. He didn't watch as the man left, hurrying instead into the clinic, still shaken.

“Good morning, Dr. Edelstein.” He greeted, keeping his voice light and cheery. He knew, there was no other way to explain that conversation. Whatever the pills were or weren't doing, he knew what it was. No surprise, as much as Alfred hated the thought. It was Doctor Edelstein who administered their doses.

“Good morning, Alfred. Did you sleep well?” He asked, not looking up from his paperwork as Alfred sat down at his own desk to do the same. As far as Alfred could see, running the medbay was 90% paperwork, 2% seeing patients for real ailments, and 8% lying to their faces about their fake one.

“It was a little rocky, but I'll be alright.” He assured him. “And you?”

“I slept well enough, I suppose. The baby finally started sleeping through the night.” He smiled softly, glancing at the picture of his wife, Eliza, and their newborn daughter.

“That's good to hear. My mom says the first few weeks are always the hardest. Not that it'll be smooth sailing from here on out.” He chuckled.

“Hopefully Theresa won't be too much trouble. Though,” He sighed, shaking his head. “If she's anything like her mother...”

Alfred's laugh was genuine that time. Eliza was great. She worked with his dad in the Reactor Level, and always seemed to have time to show him something cool when he was down there. But if rumors were to be believed, she'd been hell on wheels as a kid.

He realized with a start that Roderich probably let Eliza dose Theresa's bottle, like all of the babies in the Vault. Even knowing that the pills were a sham, he probably let his wife give them to their child anyway. How could he not, with the Overseer breathing down his neck?

“Good morning, Vault Town!” Feliks' upbeat voice, the same as every morning, knocked him out of his horrified stupor. “Happy July 4th everybody! Today's choices in the cafeteria include: beef stew or fried cram sandwiches for lunch, and there will be hot dogs and hamburgers for tonight's festivities! Today's birthdays include The United States of America and Alfred Jones. Al, honey, just let the cafeteria workers know who you are and you'll get an extra dessert portion. It's ice cream today, folks!”

There was a time, less than a day ago, when the news of extra birthday ice cream would have sent him into a euphoric high that would last all day. Now he could only wonder if they were drugging the food, too, and whether there was a way he could test it. He sighed, glancing up at the clock. It would be hours yet before he was free to go to his grandfather's apartment for answers.

Alfred ducked his head back down, staring at his paperwork. He blinked, focusing his eyes. Whereas only the day before the letters had swam on the page, mixing themselves up, now they held still in their proper places. He frowned at the paper, puzzled. Had the medications been causing his dyslexia? It was a common complaint in the Vault, 4 out of 6 residents had trouble reading, but he'd never connected the two truths until now.

He was very careful to not complete his work too much faster than normal, worried that he would give himself away, but now that he'd noticed the first signs of the pills wearing off, he began to pay more attention to the changes in his body.

The stomach cramps that had plagued him every morning as long as he could remember were gone, the fuzziness in his brain that he hadn't even noticed until it wasn't there was gone, too. Or maybe clearing, he wouldn't know what his brain was normally capable of until the pills wore off completely. His limbs didn't feel as heavy, and he wasn't as tired as he should be. He'd felt truly hungry for the first time this morning, as well, scarfing down his cafeteria food and still not feeling full enough. The food had tasted blander than usual, too, though he couldn't say for sure that was the pills.

“Is something wrong, Alfred?” Doctor Edelstein asked. “You've been staring at that form looking troubled for the past three minutes.”

Alfred looked up, blinking owlishly. “Oh...no, everything's fine. I'm just having a little trouble concentrating this morning. Dyslexia, you know.” He sighed.

“Don't push yourself too hard.” The Doctor admonished. “How about you go take a break from filling out the forms and go make sure the medications are stocked?” He suggested.

“Sure.” He shrugged, rising from his desk. As he made his way to the back room where they kept the medications, he wondered if he was being tested. He'd never been told to stock the medications before, and it was suspicious that the Doctor would start now, given that he was supposed to be under scrutiny. Giving him a chance to snoop could be his way of catching him in a trap.

He closed the door to the supply room behind him, looking around at the rows and rows of bottles. How to take advantage of the situation without getting in hot water with the Overseer?

He decided just to do what he was asked, and maybe take a peek at the names of the medications to look up later, when Edelstein took his lunch, or was in the exam room. As long as he didn't take too long or swipe anything, he should be fine.

Counting out the pill bottles went quickly enough, but the names on the bottles were long and hard to pronounce, let alone remember. He would have to settle for memorizing one pill and hoping it was enough to prove that the pills were harmful.

He chose the one they were short on, repeating it a few times to himself, and again as a mantra in his head as he exited the medicine closet. Hopefully this pill held the answers, because he wasn't sure he'd ever get the chance to go back in there again.

“Doctor? We're running low on...uhh...Methectylproximan? The one with the green cap.” He told him, tripping over the complicated name.

Doctor Edelstein looked carefully at him. “Alright, take this and go down to the lab. Tell them they need to synthesize some for us.” He said, writing out a note on his pad and handing it to Alfred.

“Thanks, Doc, I'll be right back.” He said, turning on his heel.

“Just a moment, Alfred.” The Doctor requested, and Alfred stopped in his tracks, turning around.

“Are you happy here, Alfred? Satisfied with your work?” He asked, still watching him carefully.

“Uhm...yeah?” Alfred asked, wary. “I mean, I feel like I should be learning more about being an actual doctor, but I know I'm pretty young, and I won't be replacing you any time soon.” He shrugged, trying not to say anything too damaging.

Doctor Edelstein smiled. “I understand being restless. I have you toddling around here doing nothing but paperwork and coffee runs. But Alfred, you have to remember that we're dealing with a very serious virus here in Vault Town. And I'm not just talking about how serious it is for us, the sufferers. Did you know that Vault Town's existence is itself top secret?” He asked.

Alfred blinked, feigning surprise. “Really?” He asked.

“Oh yes, a matter of national security. If China or Russia was to get ahold of even one resident of this vault, they could use us to manufacture a biological weapon to use against the United States. So you understand why we can't trust just anyone with our medicines.” He told him seriously.

“Yeah, I get it. I gotta put in the work if I want to prove myself worthy of the reward.” He gave him a jaunty salute. “I'll do my best to earn your trust, Doctor. I want to be the best medical professional I can be.” He answered, truthfully. And he did, even if that meant exposing the truth about the medical fraud that was going on in this vault.

“See that you do, Alfred. You're a bright young man, and I think you'll make a fine doctor.” Edelstein told him, a hint of fondness in his voice. It made Alfred's stomach sour to think that the Doctor hoped for him to follow in his footsteps and keep administering the pills.

“I gotta get this slip down to the lab. I'll be right back.” He excused himself, hurrying down to the lab and dropping off the slip. He dilly-dallied a bit on his way back, trying to process the cascades of information he'd been hit with since last night. But he still couldn't quite wrap his head around everything.

When he got back to the medbay, Doctor Edelstein was in the examination room with a client, giving Alfred a small opening. Keeping half of his attention on the door, he reached for a reference guide on the bookshelf. He searched it, his eyes continuously darting over to the examination room. But there was no mention of Methectylproximan. He put it back and grabbed another one, but it held nothing either.

He made his way through the 'M' section of three more pill dictionaries before finally giving up on finding it in anything the Doctor kept laying about. His newly cleared brain worked faster than ever, and it whirred to life trying to come up with a way to find out what the pills did.

He could ask Kiku, who worked in the lab, to try and find out the chemical makeup and he could guess based on that what it did to the human body. But he didn't want to get his best friend involved in this. Kiku was danger-averse to say it kindly, and valued his place in the lab. If he wanted Kiku to get the information, he'd have to let him in on all of it, and put him in the same vague danger Alfred knew himself to be in.

Maybe....maybe he could pick the lock on Doctor Edelstein's desk? If he was keeping the information anywhere in the clinic, that's probably where it would be. But was he really willing to do that?

He thought about Mattie, and how sometimes he would throw up for hours after taking his pills, and of little Theresa and all of the other babies who had no choice but to be doped up from birth.

Yes, he was really willing to do that.

He pressed his ear gently up against the door of the exam room and heard the Doctor discussing dosage instructions. There would be no time to do it now, and with people coming in and out for appointments....no. He would have to come back tonight. He'd have to break into the clinic.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred waited until Matthew's breathing had evened out in the bed next to his before rising and padding out into the main body of the apartment. His parents' voices came in soft waves of babble from their room as he slipped out of the door into the hallway. The lights had been set on low for the night, and the shadows gathered at the corners, pools of darkness perfect for shielding Alfred from any prying eyes.

He slunk through the hallway, intensely aware that it was after curfew. Even if he wasn't caught rummaging through the Doctor's locked desk for top secret information, being caught out after curfew with no good explanation would definitely look suspicious. Why hadn't he had the good foresight to get a boyfriend? That would make a good excuse.

He wove carefully through the vault towards the clinic, stopping only once. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway and he ducked into an empty janitor's closet, closing the door just seconds before a guard shone their flashlight down the hallway. Heart pounding in his chest, he waited until he heard the guard's footsteps die off before he continued on his way.

Getting into the clinic was easy enough. He hooked the card reader up to his Pip-Boy and changed the time log to 4:45, only 15 minutes after he was sent home for the day because the Doctor had an important meeting with the Overseer and a few other important citizens. If Doc asked him why he'd gone back, he'd tell him he'd forgotten his jacket. Which was true, in that he'd left his jacket there on purpose just in case. He debated back and forth wondering if that was overthinking things, and it probably was, but it never hurt.

He slid the card and put everything back in place, ducking through the door and kneeling in front of Edelstein's desk. He thumbed quickly through his old copy of Tumblers Today to check the type of lock he was dealing with. He hissed, wincing at the projected difficulty level. He'd never picked a lock even half this difficult. Never even tried. But he knew how, technically.

It wasn't going to be easy, but he could do this. It had been a full day and some hours since he'd last taken his medication and his head felt clearer than ever, his hands more dexterous and less prone to shaking. And with every hour he put between himself and his last dose, he felt better. Better and more angry that they would steal this healthy feeling from everyone in the Vault for essentially no reason.

He set aside the magazine and fished the bobby pin out of his hair, sliding it into the key hole. Four pins and a fifth trick pin that would keep the drawer locked if it was set. He fiddled with the bobby pin, listening carefully to the clicking and sliding of the pins. When the first 4 were set, leaving the false pin in place, he turned the torsion wrench, grinning as the lock clicked open.

He opened the drawer slowly, almost afraid the sound of it would echo through the whole Vault. But it slid open with little more than a whisper, the files inside sitting unprotected. For a moment he wanted to shit the drawer and lock it back. It felt wrong to be rummaging through his boss' desk in the middle of the night with no permission.

He steeled himself with thoughts of Mattie and Theresa, and grabbed the top file off of the stack.

He turned his Pip-Boy light on and opened the file, scanning down the pages faster than he ever thought possible, the words seeming to simply jump into his brain as he read. They were data sheets, statistics gathered from Vault 74 residents. He was sure he could do something with this information if he knew more, but for now it was useless. He set the file aside and grabbed the next one. It was in Doctor Edelstein's handwritten scrawl, a sort of memo pad with notes to himself. 

The Overseer has asked me to increase the dosage of hydroxephen to 100mg for all residents above the age of 18. He says he'd like to test the effects on the subjects'   
docility, because some of the waste management team have been asking questions. I suggested that with careful dosing, teenagers could also be subjected to increases.

06/15/2275

The lab has switched out the Phenolyn with Triptolycol. I was advised to administer the doses as normal and monitor residents for complaints of lightheadedness and   
vomiting. Confusion and forgetfulness are to be explained as rare side effects. It seems someone has been snooping around the abandoned wing of the reactor level again.

06/26/2275

I was right to advise that we check the trash before sending it to the incinerator. It seems they found more pills. I sent the Overseer a list of residents who haven't been   
exhibiting expected side-effects.

07/02/2275

Alfred fought back a wave of nausea as he set the memos aside. This was so much worse than anything he could have imagined. The Overseer was changing their doses and switching out their pills on a whim, to control them, to keep them from asking questions. And Doctor Edelstein was actively compliant. He told them to check the trash, he sent out lists of patients who he thought weren't taking their pills, he even suggested experimenting on the teenagers.

He was going to be sick.

He gripped the side of the desk until the feeling of the wood digging into his palm grounded him, the pain clearing his head a little and battling back the wave of sickness. He didn't have the luxury of throwing up. Not here, not now.

He laid the memos out on the desk and scanned them into his Pip-Boy, replacing all of the files in meticulous order and locking the desk back. He had proof now.

He had proof.

The thought lifted something, some weight he had been carrying since he saw his parents skip their meds. Whatever happened next, he had proof.

Ducking back out into the hallway, Alfred contemplated his options. He should probably go back home and get some rest, wake up with his brother like he did every morning so as to not arouse suspicion. But he felt too keyed up to go to bed, and he needed to share what he had found with someone.

He turned and took off towards his grandfather's apartment.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

When he got there, the door was open.

The doors on most of the rooms in the Vault were automatic, it should be closed. He told himself it had just stuck the last time someone had come or gone, but the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and acidic anxiety ate at his stomach. 

He entered the living room cautiously, not sure what he was expecting to find. Whatever it was, it wasn’t his grandfather lying in a pool of his own blood, clutching the shotgun he kept above the door and the crudely drawn map of the Wasteland. 

Bile rose in his throat as he fought back tears, frozen in place as he tried to process the grisly scene in front of him. The blood was still oozing from a large gash in his head, which had been twisted much too far to one side to be natural. His eyes were wide open in defiant anger, a scowl frozen on his face. 

“Oh god.” Alfred wheezed, trying hard not to be sick as the smell of rancid copper hit his nose. “Oh god.” He repeated, clutching desperately at his hair, pulling at it like the pain could make him wake up from this nightmare. But the scene in front of him didn’t fade, and he let out a choked sob as he fell to his knees at his grandfather’s side. 

“Oh, Jesus. Oh god.” He whimpered, hands shaking as he grabbed the shot gun and the map. He had to get out of here. He had to find the hole in the wall, find the cave. There was no way that the Overseer wouldn't be suspicious of him now, wouldn't try to come after him or his parents next. 

He tried to take deep breaths to calm down, but every gulp of air tasted like blood and panic as he stumbled out of the room and back into the hallway. The dim lights casting shadows down the long hallways of the Vault seemed more ominous now, hiding unseen assassins waiting to strike. He cast wild eyes around the hallway, knowing that he had to move but not sure which way to go. 

Footsteps to the right made his decision for him, and he hugged the darkened wall as he tried to sprint quietly to the left away from them. The footsteps stopped, replaced by the murmur of quiet voices, which was replaced again by running steps and a shout of, “Vault Security, stop!”

Alfred broke out into a run, the guards thundering behind him as they called for him to stop. He skidded around a corner, slamming into the wall and bouncing off of it as he almost lost his footing. He lost precious seconds, and he could hear the guards right behind him as they started to close the gap. 

He was breathing hard now, his lungs and limbs still weak from years of debilitating medication and a sedentary lifestyle. He could feel himself flagging, his steps growing uneven as his lungs burned. A hand grasped at his arm and he threw it off, ignoring the taste of ozone in the back of his throat as he put on a burst of speed. 

But it wasn't enough. The wind rushed out of him as he was tackled from behind, he and the guard collapsing into a pile on the floor of the Vault. He choked on ragged breaths as the guard slapped a pair of handcuffs on him. His head swam, he tried to process what was happening as the guard started to speak. 

“Alfred Jones, you're under arrest for the murder of Alfred Kirkland.” was what finally made it through the haze. 

“What!? Are you insane! Why would I kill my grandpa!?” He protested, struggling against the guard on top of him. 

“Good question. We'd love to know.” The other guard remarked sarcastically, a razor sharp smirk on her face. “I'm sure the Overseer will get it out of you.” 

Panic renewed his strength as he bucked and squirmed against his captor, cursing and spitting at them as he kicked and elbowed anything that came within reach. But there were two of them, and he was already winded from running, and he knew that adrenaline and fear wouldn't be enough. 

“Hey, what's going on here?” Came a disgruntled voice from down the hall. The struggle stopped as they all turned to look at Carlos, one of his dad's coworker's from the reactor level. The man frowned as he took in the scene. “Matthew? What's going on?”

Alfred bit back the urge to roll his eyes. Of course Carlos couldn't tell them apart, even at a time like this. He started to speak, but the guard shoved his knee between his shoulder blades and forced him down until his head cracked on the floor. 

“This is Vault business, sir. I suggest you go back to sleep.” The guard told him, ice creeping into his voice. 

“Not until you tell me why you're pinning a kid to the ground.” Carlos said, crossing his arms over his chest and standing like an immovable wall in front of his doorway. 

“You'll know when the Overseer sees fit to inform the Vault as a whole.” The other guard said, baton clutched in his hand poised to be used. 

Alfred slid his arms under him and shoved himself up. “Carlos, help! They're trying to frame me!” He said, crying out as the guard slammed his head back on the floor. 

“Hey, you can't do that! Let him go!” Carlos snarled, tearing the guard off of him and slamming his fist into his face. The other guard cried out and tried to rush Carlos with his baton, but Alfred kicked a leg out to trip him and send him sprawling. 

He felt a tug on his arm as Carlos dragged him up. His head was still spinning from being slammed into the hard floor, and he felt sick, but he wasn't given a moment to rest as he was pulled down the hall. “Carlos, what's going on? My grandpa...he...someone killed him.” He said, panic starting to bubble up as the weight of the situation hit him like a train. 

“Shit.” Carlos cursed under his breath, “We have to get moving, now.” He half-dragged Alfred down the hall, not slowing even when he stumbled and almost fell against the older man. 

“Carlos, what's going on? I don't understand.” Alfred said, trying to pull away from Carlos to get him to slow down for just a second. 

“I don't have time to explain, kid. I need to get you somewhere safe.” Carlos answered, turning a sharp corner into an empty residential corridor. Three doors down, he swiped a security card and opened one of the doors. He pushed Alfred into the supply closet, a hard determined look etched into the lines of his brown face like gouges in the bark of a tree. 

“Stay here.” He said, going to close the door. 

“Wait!” Alfred said, panic in his eyes. “Don't just leave me here!” Carlos sighed and put a heavy, reassuring hand on his shoulder. 

“It's going to be okay, chico. Just stay here until I come back for you. And don't open this door for anyone else, you understand me?” He said. “I'm going to disable the card reader from the outside. No one can get in unless you let them in.” 

Alfred swallowed thickly and nodded, fighting the urge to cling to Carlos like a small, scared child. He was an adult now, and he had to act like it. 

“I'll be back soon.” Carlos promised, mussing Alfred's hair. “Just stay put.” 

Alfred felt the closing of the door like a weight pressing down onto him, the darkness crowding in on him as the light left with Carlos. The coppery stench of drying blood hit his nose and he fought not to wretch. 

He stared down at his hands and the smears of blood that the shotgun had transferred onto them. His grandfather's blood. 

He scrubbed his hands on his pants, but he could still feel the stickiness between his fingers. His grandpa's blood was drying on his hands, and on his pants now too. He thought about looking through the supply closet for something to wipe it off with, but he didn't want to draw attention to himself with noise. 

He drew in on himself, clutching the shotgun to his chest and trying to keep his breathing slow and even. He could feel the quickening thump of his heart in his chest, and his stomach bubbled like a cauldron. Guilt and anxiety stretched each second into eternity as he strained to hear any sign of life in the empty corridor. 

A group of running footsteps passed by, somewhere in the distance just close enough to hear, and for a second Alfred thought he was found. But they were gone as soon as they came, and he sank to the ground in relief. 

Pulling his knees to his chest, he shut his eyes tight against the swirling mass of thoughts and worries that threatened to overwhelm him. He pulled himself in more, curling into a tight ball and tucking his face into his knees. It would be okay, it had to be. Carlos would come soon and he would get Alfred somewhere safe. He was coming back for him, he promised. 

A knock on the closet door startled him, and he had to clap a hand to his mouth to keep from screaming. He shrunk back against the wall, hoping the person on the other side of the door hadn't heard anything. 

“Alfred, it's your dad. Open up.” He heard his father's voice through the door. He started to lunge for the button, but stopped. Carlos had said not to open up for anyone but him. And Alfred still had no idea what was going on. 

Pulling his hand back from the door lock, he bit his lip. What if it was a trap? What if the Overseer had already captured him and was using him as bait? What if it wasn't even him at all but someone doing an imitation? 

“Alfred, son, open up. I know you're in there.” His dad said, voice soft and coaxing but with an edge of panic. “We don't have much time.” 

He was right. Every second he spent debating whether or not to open the door was another second for the vault guards to round the corner and find them both. And then it would be over either way. He took a deep breath and hit the button, practically launching himself into his dad as the door hissed up and open. 

“They killed grandpa.” He whimpered, fisting his hands in his father's vault suit. His dad sighed and squeezed him tight, his warm heavy hand a reassuring weight on his head. 

“I know.” He said, burying his nose in his son's hair and wrapping him up like he might still be able to protect him the way he did when Al was little and his biggest worries were bullies and rats. He stepped back, holding Al at arms length and looking at him like he was seeing him for the first time. 

“We have to go.” He said, looking at the map and the gun still clutched in Alfred's hands like they were somehow the problem. 

“Where to?” Alfred asked, “There's no way out of the Vault but the door, and it's probably swarming with guards by now.” 

“There's another way.” His father said, pushing his son gently down the hallway to get him to move. “You know where we're going.” 

“The abandoned wing of the reactor level.” Alfred said, apprehension and awe in his voice. “Grandpa was right? There was no leak?”

His father paused for a moment before responding, peering around the corner and guiding Alfred down another hallway. “Yes and no.” He said, heading down a flight of stairs. “There's nothing wrong with the reactor, but radiation is leaking in from the surface.” 

“From the surface?” He asked, confused for a moment before he remembered. Canton, two-headed cows, giant green men. “Oh god.” He breathed, his throat constricting and his chest tightening with the weight of it. Nuclear hellfire had wiped the world above them clean, and no one in the Vault would have been any the wiser if it wasn't for Arthur. Arthur, who was now laying dead in a pool of his own blood because of that. How many people had died in the blasts? How many people had died in the Vault to keep it from them? He tried to take a breath and realized he couldn't drag it deep enough. He couldn't breathe!

“Come on, champ. No time to panic.” His dad said soothingly, laying a steady hand on his shoulder that brought Al back into the present. “I've always been able to count on you to be brave, Al. I need to be able to count on you now.” He said, his steely blue eyes boring into Alfred's own, sternness there but also an overwhelming warmth that had always made Alfred want to live up to any expectation he set for him. “Can I count on you?” 

Alfred nodded, resolute. “Yeah. Yeah, you can count on me, dad. I'll keep it together.” He said, rising up to his full height. He stared into his father's eyes and realized with a start that they were almost the same height now. When had that happened? 

His father drew him into a hug, squeezing him tight enough to almost hurt. “Everything's going to be okay, Al.” He murmured, drawing back and squeezing his shoulder. “Let's get going.”

They slid through the shadows along the walls, ears perked for any sound. The main reactor level was empty, the majority of the workers having gone home for the night. He could hear the din of a holotape playing from the office, no doubt Nils was in there on the night shift. But the holotape covered the sounds of their footsteps, and it was easy enough to get passed him. 

“Just a little longer, Al. Once we're in the sealed off portion of the reactor, we should be safe.” His father whispered. “The door's just down this next hallway.” 

“What's going to happen to mom? And Mattie?” He asked, suddenly realizing that they weren't coming to meet them. His dad didn't answer for a moment, conflict warring across his face. 

“They'll be fine, Al. The Overseer will want to brush this all under the rug. He'll say it was us, give your mom and Matt a chance to play dumb. They'll be okay.” He promised. Alfred tried to believe him. 

“What happened to Carlos?” He asked, biting his lip. “He saved me, dad. If I got him into trouble-” His father cut him off. 

“Carlos knew what he was doing, Al. There's a lot more to this situation than you know.” He said, his face a grim, resigned mask. “He can take care of himself.” 

Somehow, that didn't inspire the confidence he thought his dad hoped it would. 

They slipped into the hallway, silent as a shadow. Alfred could see the airlocked door that led to the closed off part of the reactor, and hope began to blossom in his chest. They were almost there, almost home free. 

“Alright, Al. Think you can hack the lock?” His dad asked. Al looked at him, mouth agape. “Come on, kid, you think I didn't know how you got into the liquor cabinet? I know you know how to hack a terminal. It's in the wall, just press the button.” He said, a confidence in his voice that warmed Al's chest. 

He hit the button and the terminal folded out of the wall, the keyboard flipping out and nearly whacking him in the chest as he stepped back. Eyes searching the screen, he felt his head swim. He'd only just started learning COBOL a few months ago, and there was code in here that he wasn't even sure what it did! 

“Dad, I don't know if I can do this.” He said, nerves jangling. 

“Of course you can,” His dad said, gentle and reassuring as always. “Who got the highest score on the G.O.A.T. in Vault history, hm? You did. And who could have had his pick of jobs in the Vault, including IT? You.” He reminded him. 

Alfred sighed. “I wish I had picked it, now.” He said, frowning. But he put his fingers back to the keys and went to work. 

Once he had his bearings, he found that he knew more of the code than he had given himself credit for, and could fill in the blanks on most everything else. Confidence started to build as he poked at the system, finding weak points faster than he had expected. 

The shuffling of feet down the hallway stopped progress in its tracks. 

“Dad-” He said, panic riding in his voice. 

“I heard.” His father said grimly, pulling out a 10mm pistol. “Just keep going, Al. Don't stop, no matter what happens. And the second you get that door open, you go through. You hear me?” He said. 

“But dad-” Al started, cutting himself off when he saw the look in his father's eyes. He swallowed thickly, desperately willing away the burn in his eyes. “I hear you.” He said, his voice barely louder than a whisper. 

“I love you, Alfred.” His father said, drawing him into a tight, one-armed hug. “Remember that.” 

“I love you too, Dad.” He said, returning the hug and fighting not to cling to his dad. He let go and took a deep breath, setting his shoulders and turning back to the computer. “I've got this.” He said, not even taking his eyes off the screen as his dad ran off down the opposite end of the hallway towards the now clear stop of the guards' boots. 

He tuned out the shouting as the caught sight of his dad and focused on the code in front of him. Whereas before it had seemed a breeze, now each level of encryption seemed agonizingly slow to detangle. He wondered, heart in his throat, how much more he even had left to go.

He heard the firefight break out somewhere in the distance, and refused to think about it. He couldn't stop the shake in his hands as he typed, though, or the way his pulse pounded in his ears. As he heard the gunfire grow louder and louder until it drown out even the rapid thump of his heart, he finally cracked the last encryption. 

Relief so immediate and cathartic he was almost overwhelmed by it was quickly replaced by a new sense of urgency as the gunfire reached the end of the hallway. The door hissed open and Alfred ran through, pausing with his hand over the airlock button on the other side. 

His dad was coming. He had to be coming because the gunshots were still getting closer. If he closed the door now he would likely be gone before the guards could get back through the door. If he closed the door now, his dad was dead. 

He heard his father cry out, so close Alfred could hear as he hit the floor. Al rushed forward before he could think twice, tumbling onto his knees in the shadow of the doorway and peaking around. His dad was in a crumpled heap on the ground, clutching at a rapidly blossoming blood stain on his left side. Something in him, some instinct drilled into him by Dr. Edelstein, took stock of his symptoms before the fact that his father had been shot could truly register. 

The bullet had entered between the third and fourth rib, almost certainly puncturing the lung. The shallow, raspy breaths he was taking confirmed it; and when his father coughed weakly, blood came with it. He was already in bad condition, but if the bullet was anywhere near his heart....

“Al...” He heard his dad whisper weakly, pressing his 10mm into Alfred's hand. “Go.” 

The child in him wanted to fight, wanted to stay here at home forever and never have anything change. The doctor in him knew that his father was dying, rapidly, and his only chance was if the guards got him to the med bay immediately. Which meant their search for Al had to become too hard to pursue. 

He stood up slowly and crept back to the button, the hiss of the door closing behind him sounding like a death knell. 

He ignored the pounding at the door and walked deeper into the abandoned reactor. Cobwebs clung to the equipment, the only light coming from the red emergency lights he was sure were always on. He pushed through, refusing to think. 

The geiger counter on his Pip-Boy started to click, and he stopped. Likely, the clicking was a good thing. It meant he was getting closer to the exit. But what if something had gone wrong since the place had been sealed off? What if he was walking into a hot zone that could kill him before he even knew what hit him?

He sighed and pushed on, realizing that at this point it didn't matter. There was no way to go back, no way to stay where he was, he could only go forward. The clicking kept steady pace, the rads not jumping too much as he wandered deeper into the shut down reactor. The shadows grew longer as fewer of the lights he encountered still functioned, and he turned the light on his Pip-Boy on to compensate. 

As he scanned the wall with the light, he saw a corner that seemed to be shrouded in shadows even it couldn't penetrate. He crept closer, the 10mm his father gave him still in his hand and the shotgun from his grandfather's apartment still slung over his shoulder. If anything sprung at him out of the darkness, he would be ready. 

But when he got there, all that greeted him was a cool draft of air that smelled of things Alfred had no words for. It wasn't the sanitized, recycled air of the vault. It was....something else. 

He shined his light into the darkness and found something he had only seen in pictures. Rock lined the walls of what he had to assume was the cave his grandfather had told him about. He ran his fingers over it, gasping at the cool roughness of it. He slid a whole palm over the surface, marveling at the feel. A cool puff of wind from the cave washed over him, and that strange smell drew him further in. It was almost like the smell in the hydroponics lab, but more somehow. Deeper, more of something else Alfred had no words for because he'd never experienced anything like it. 

He wandered through the cave, one wrist held high to scan in front of him with the light, the other hand trailing lightly over the rock. Soft, spongy wetness under his fingertips made Alfred stop. Shining the light on a patch of moss, another thing he'd only ever seen in books, he couldn't help but marvel at it. He pressed his fingers lightly into the soft surface, a little laugh punching itself out of him as they sank into it. 

Suddenly remembering where he was and why, Alfred snatched his hand away from the moss as if it had burned him and hurried deeper into the cave. The arm that had been trailing the wall came to wrap around his middle as he curled in on himself, ashamed that he had stopped to admire moss when his dad might be dying. 

The tunnel let out into a wider cave, about 10 square feet, with a pool of water to one side and a side tunnel off to the other. He noted the pool for later in case he got thirsty and headed into the tunnel, hoping there weren't too many twists and turns to get back if he needed to.

The floor of the cave started to climb upward, and Alfred with it. By the time he was using both hands to climb, there was enough light in the cave that he didn't even notice he didn't need his Pip-Boy until he was almost blinded by his first glimpse of the sun in his lifetime. When Alfred's eyes adjusted, he gasped.

The cave had let out almost abruptly into a small cliff side, the early morning sun bright and bold just over the horizon and bathing the plains below in its light. Dead golden brown grass stretched out for miles before him, only a few charred stumpy trees breaking up the monotony. If not for them, he might not even think a bomb had hit, it was so similar to the pictures he had seen from Before. And when he looked up at the uniform blue of the sky stretching out from horizon to horizon without a single cloud, he had to remind himself that his Geiger counter was still clicking. 

It became apparent why as he looked around. The trail leading up to the exit almost seemed to be made of a mound of waste barrels. He was safe for now, in the mouth of the cave, but he worried that if he stepped out too far onto the trail, the counter would start to go nuts. 

Grandpa Arthur hadn't gone into detail about how he'd gotten out of the cave itself, only about Canton and his adventures there. Maybe if he had just taken him more seriously, he would have more information. He hugged his knees to his chest and scooted his back up against the mouth of the cave, frowning out over the dead prairie. 

“Come on, Al. You're smart, you can think of a way out of this.” He said to himself, willing himself to believe it. Okay, so if one way led into a bunch of toxic waste, where did the other way lead? 

He peered down off the steep side of the outcropping, hissing to himself as he took in the drop. He was pretty sure he wouldn't survive that. So plan b was out of the question. He sighed and took another look around, spotting a pool of water sitting tranquil at the base of the cliff. Remembering the matching one in the cave below, he made his way back down the slope. 

He looked dubiously down into the water, rethinking the whole plan. It was probably full of rads, and it wasn't like he knew there was a way out. Maybe he should just chance it with the barrels? No, he would be dead before he hit the ground. This was the only way he could think of right now, so he was going to try it. 

The water was surprisingly cold as he slipped into it, his feet not touching the bottom. He had expected it to be warmer, this close to the surface, but he was shivering as he tread water. He took a deep breath and dove, trying to swim and shine his Pip-Boy light at the same time. He saw a deep indent of shadows and pumped his fist in victory, coming up for another big gulp of air before swimming into the tight tunnel. 

The rocks crowded in on him, snagging at this clothing and scraping his skin. The tunnel was barely wide enough for him to fit through, and the lack of air made his head swim with claustrophobia. But he could see a literal light at the end of the tunnel, and he forced himself forward even as his lungs began to ache. 

He surfaced just in time, drawing a deep, desperate breath as he came up on the other side of the rocks, the outcropping he had been sitting on a good 30 feet above him. He let out a breathless whoop and hauled himself out of the water, shaking some of the water out of his hair. 

The wind picked up, goosebumps rising in a rolling wave across his body. He rubbed his arms and checked the map, the sun not quite strong enough yet to warm him through the chill of the early morning. If he could find somewhere to lay low until he dried off, he'd feel a lot better about the whole situation. 

The map was old and worn, hand drawn with little care for distances or accuracy. There was a map in his Pip-Boy, but it was useless with the map he had. At least the cardinal directions were marked. It was placed almost due Southeast of his current location, which might put it as close by as Sunnyvale or as far away as Mesquite, or anywhere in between.

Sighing, he set off towards Canton.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

The scorching sun beat bleaching down onto the plains directly overhead by the time Alfred realized that he hadn't slept yet. The adrenaline had finally worn off, his second wind had come and gone, and all he wanted was a roof and a bed. He'd even settle for a shade tree and a soft patch of grass at this point.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned as he crested another rolling “hill”, or what passed for one in the relatively flat area. When he took his hands away from his eyes, he had to blink again just to make sure all the rubbing hadn't messed them up. There, seemingly in the middle of nowhere, sat a neat little row of houses on a busted up street. 

He ran for them, the thought of a shady place to sleep and maybe even a bed drowning all other thoughts out. It wasn't until he was almost close enough to touch the first house that he jogged to a stop. There, in the middle of the street, stood a lone figure with their back turned to Alfred. Their clothes hung off of them in tatters, their hair scraggly and half-missing. 

Alfred approached the figure slowly, cautiously. His hand hovered over the pistol his father had given him, fingers twitching slightly as he raised the other in a greeting. “Hey, stranger! How's the day treating you?” He called, stopping just shy of 50 paces from the person. 

They seemed to perk up as he called out, and Alfred froze in horror as they – it – finally decided to show it's face. 

Sickly green skin sloughed off like dry paper, leaving wet bone and muscle exposed. Shiny, twisted burn scars made up what little of its body that wasn't falling off. Dead, bulbous eyes bulged out of sockets with no lids above a vacant, grotesque cavity where a nose had once been. And when those eyes saw Alfred, they filled with a hatred that chilled him to the bone and left him frozen in place as it rushed him. 

Alfred screamed, feeling it more than hearing it as the world narrowed down to a pinprick. His hand seemed to move on it's own, grabbing the gun and firing off shot after shot until it was empty. The monster staggered back, taking the shots, but didn't go down. Still, it was all Alfred needed to escape back around the other side of the house.

He tore the shotgun off of his back and checked it with shaking hands. Two shells. It would have to be enough. 

Gulping down panicked breaths, Alfred braced the shotgun against his shoulder and whipped back around the corner. Steadying the gun as best he could, he fired off a shot. The kickback was stronger than he expected, and he rocked back on his heels for a moment before regaining balance. Blood and tissue exploded from the monster's torso, but all that did was stagger it again. 

Alfred turned to run again, but caught his foot on a rock and went sprawling. He scrambled to get up, hissing as scraped palms grated against the sandy ground. He had barely managed to rise to his knees when the creature was on him, smashing his face into the dirt and cracking his glasses. 

Blows rained down on him from above as the creature tore at him with blunt fingers like it was trying to rip him open. He pawed at the ground desperately for the shotgun he'd dropped, starting to cry. It was too much, this was too much. He was being attacked by a zombie in a nuclear wasteland and his dad and grandpa were dead and he didn't even know if Mattie and his mom knew. It was just too much. 

His palm skirted over the metal of the gun, warm from the sun, and he grabbed it, swinging it over his shoulder and smashing it into the creature's head. The thing roared out in pain and reared back, and Alfred took the chance to slip out from under it. He didn't look back or pause as he ran back out onto the street and between two of the houses on the other side, tears and snot streaming down his face. He couldn't do this! 

But apparently, the grotesque deformities the creature was suffering from hadn't taken away its speed, and Alfred could hear its inhuman growls behind him again within seconds. He sobbed out and put on speed, wondering how long he could keep running before he fell again and the monster caught him. 

Suddenly, the bang of a door being slammed open echoed from one of the houses behind him. Hopelessness overtook Alfred, and he nearly sank down to his knees and gave up. He couldn't even take one of these things on, there was no way he could deal with two!

But instead of more disturbing almost-human sounds, he heard barking. 

He turned his head on instinct, wondering what the hell that sound was and where it was coming from. A medium sized gray dog had shot out of the house and launched itself at the creature, tackling it to the ground and holding it there by its arm while it struggled to free itself. 

Alfred stared in wonder for a moment, not quite knowing how to react to his canine savior. But when the monster wrenched it's arm and almost tore free of the dog, Alfred gasped and ran over, pressing the shotgun to the creature's face and firing point blank between its eyes. 

Blood, hot red blood he almost hadn't been expecting, sprayed out from the thing, covering him and the dog. Alfred fell to his knees, thoughts swirling so fast he wasn't even sure he was thinking anymore. The dog padded softly over to him and licked his trembling, blood-covered hand gently, ducking its head under to ask for pets. 

He ran his hand absent-mindedly through the dog's fur as he rose to his feet. The world seemed to spin around him, and when it got to be too much he bent over and emptied his stomach. He spit out the last of the vomit and wiped his mouth, tangling his fingers into the dog's fur and stumbling with it back to the house it had busted out of. 

Alfred barely registered the blasted-out interior or the signs that looters had come and gone a long time ago. He shuffled, zombie-like, into the nearest room and collapsed onto the bed. The dog joined him, curling up under his arm and laying its head on his chest. 

The dam broke then, and everything Alfred had been feeling since the night before last came pouring out as he buried his face in the dog's fur and sobbed.


	2. Can Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay! I finally put together the playlist for this fic. If you wanted to know what plays on the radio in North Texas, here it is (minus Enclave Radio, which just plays patriotic music)
> 
> I'm getting Sentimental Over you – Tommy Dorsey  
> Que Sera Sera – Doris Day  
> Take the A Train – Duke Ellington  
> Stardust – Nat King Cole  
> The Very Thought of You – Nat King Cole  
> I Get a Kick Outta You – Frank Sinatra  
> Memories of You – Benny Goodman  
> Fly Me to the Moon – Frank Sinatra  
> We'll Meet Again – Vera Lynn  
> Moonlight Serenade – Glenn Miller  
> The Majestic – Dion  
> Whispering Grass – The Ink Spots  
> Rock Boppin Baby – Edwin Bruce  
> Deep in the heart of Texas – Bing Crosby  
> Mr. Sandman – The Chordettes  
> Straighten Up and Fly Right – Andrews Sisters
> 
>  
> 
> Also a few new characters this chapter
> 
> Erika: Liechtenstein  
> Harper: Wy  
> Margeaux: Monaco

The dog woke him up the next morning, slobbering all over him with his big wet tongue. 

“Ugh! Gross!” Alfred cried, pushing his face away and wiping his own with the sleeve of his Vault suit. He glared halfheartedly down at the dog and sighed, patting him on the head. “I bet you're hungry, aren't you, boy?” He asked, scratching him between the ears. 

A low grumble and a wave of empty, gnawing pain in his stomach told him that he was, too. He'd eaten dinner before he left to snoop through Doctor Edelstein's office, but that had to have been at least a day and a half ago now. It felt like a different lifetime altogether. 

He rolled out of the bed and went into the kitchen, not knowing where else to look. Any food he found would be two hundred years old at this point, but he remembered his grandpa talk about eating pre-war food and he'd never mentioned it making him sick. Still, when the first thing he came across was a 200-year-old box of salisbury steak that looked like it had been cooked in its packaging when the bombs dropped, he decided that was probably better saved for the dog.

“Here you go, boy. Eat up.” He said, tearing off the film and laying it on the ground. The dog tore into it with gusto, and Alfred couldn't help but make a face. He knew he would have to eat something, too, but he'd work up to meat products. For now, a few handfuls of the incredibly stale sugar bombs he'd found in a cabinet would do. He tried not to wish he had some of the soy milk from the hydroponics lab, but it was hard. Some more sugar to replace whatever used to be in the cereal would have been nice, too. 

After barely enough to take away the hunger pains, Alfred sighed and set the box aside. He swallowed thickly, pretending it was because the cereal had dried his mouth out, and not that he was trying desperately not to think about his dad or Carlos, or Grandpa Arthur, or whether his mom and Matt were okay. The dog looked up from his meal and whined, padding over to him and slipping his head under Al's arm. 

“Thanks, buddy.” Al said softly, running his nails through the dog's wiry grey fur fur. “I think I'm gonna call you Tony. That sounds like a good name for a dog, right?” He asked, ruffling Tony's ears. “I mean, you would know better than me. I've never had a dog before. You're the first one I've ever met.”

Tony licked his ear in response. 

“Ugh! Why do you keep doing that? Are all dogs this slobbery?” He asked, wiping his ear. “Alright, Tony,” He said, pulling himself to his feet and looking around the kitchen, “I think we oughta clean this place out and head towards Canton, what do you think?” 

Tony spun around and barked, wagging his tail. Alfred laughed and patted him on the head. “That's the spirit! Now, let's see what we can find.” He said, walking into the living room and stopping dead in his tracks. 

A body, a human body, lay on the floor in a pool of blood. The woman's stomach was ripped open, her innards spilling out onto her lap. The blood was still fresh, and her guts still glistened wetly. The doctor in him reasoned that she couldn't have been dead for very long even as he doubled over and vomited onto the dingy carpet. 

“Jesus.” He swore, trying to calm his breathing. “Fuck, was this your owner?” He asked Tony, shocked. “I'm so sorry. That thing must have....god.” He gagged again, barely keeping his stomach that time.

Al walked over to the body slowly. He should have seen a dead body by now, he thought to himself. He was 20 years old, and a doctor. Why was this his first time seeing a dead person? (Not counting his grandpa and his dad, which he was still trying not to think about). A strange anger at Dr. Edelstein welled up inside of him as he grabbed the woman by her legs and dragged her out of the house. He couldn't bury her, but at least out here she would rot naturally. Someone might live in that house again one day, and bodies carried all sorts of diseases. 

He said a quick prayer over the woman and went back inside. He purposefully avoided looking at the blood puddle as he searched the shelves and drawers. By the time he was sure he'd checked everywhere, all he'd found was a handful of shotgun shells, one stimpak, and a Vault-Tec lunchbox full of Nuka-Cola bottle caps of all things. He shoved the shells and the stimpak into the lunchbox and slipped it around the strap of the shotgun. It wasn't much, but at least he had some ammo, some emergency medicine, and something to carry it all in. 

And a bunch of bottle caps. Maybe he could melt them for scrap?

“Alright, Tony,” He said, checking the map against the one on his Pip-Boy, “Let's head out.”

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

He stared up at the weathered wooden sign, trying to decide if it was some sort of joke or if he had taken a wrong turn somewhere. Painted in peeling white letters that looked like they needed a fresh coat was 'CAN TOWN 1 mi ---->' 

Was this supposed to be Canton? The map he'd gotten from his grandpa clearly read Canton, so it wasn't like his grandpa had changed it to sound fancy. They could be two different towns. But he'd been out of the Vault for a full day now, and he'd finished the sugar bombs while he was walking. He needed water, and food, and somewhere to sleep. Can Town, whether it was Canton or not, might have those things. 

“Well, Tony, I guess we're going to Can Town.” He said, rolling the map back up and shoving it through his belt. 

He saw the walls first, rising high over the rolling plains. They gleamed in the sunlight, and as Alfred approached, he saw why. As far as they eye could see, the walls were made of scrap tin cans that had been rolled out and welded together, their trademark corrugated middles unmistakable to someone who had grown up in a Vault on preserved food. 

“I guess that explains the name.” He said, slinging his shotgun back over his shoulder. He didn't want to seem like a threat. As he came within earshot of the gate, a stern-looking man called out to him from a guard tower. 

“Name and business.” He asked tersely, holding a clip board. 

“Alfred Jones. I need food and water, and a place to sleep.” He said, holding up his hands to show they were empty. 

“You got caps?” The man asked, eyeing him. Alfred stared at him for a second, bewildered, before suddenly remembering the stash of bottle caps he'd found in the lunch box. Of course! That's why Tony's former owner had kept them. 

“Uh, yeah! I've got caps.” He said back, sending up a silent thank you to the dead woman. 

“Open the gate!” The man called down, and a horrific screeching noise hit Alfred's ears as tin grated on tin and the gates slowly pulled back to reveal a gleaming, bustling little town all made out of recycled cans. The walls, doors, and foundations were all made of the same rolled out and welded cans as the walls, and even the pillars on the porches were made of stacks of welded cans. It looked so pretty and shiny in the bright morning sunlight that he forgot for a minute that they were living in the post-apocalypse and just stood back to admire it. He never knew light could make things so beautiful. 

The men who had wheeled the gate open glared at him and he hurried through, looking back as the gates shut behind him. He felt safer than he had since leaving the Vault, and the weird thing was that it had nothing to do with the walls keeping things out. He had spent his entire life underground, the concept of claustrophobia was foreign to him. But the wide open space of the plains had born down on him like a weight. It was too much, too big. The walls cut it off; everywhere he looked he was less than 100 yards away from a wall, the mindbogglingly endless horizon gone from view. 

He took a deep breath of the dusty air, tinged with the metallic tang of the cans that made up everything. Over it all wafted the scent of cooking meat, and Alfred's stomach growled in response. He'd never had fresh meat before; and as unappetizing as a burger made from a cow with two heads, or a rat kebab would have sounded yesterday, it seemed like a better way to get protein than 200 year old frozen dinners. 

He was so intent on finding the source of the smell that he didn't even notice the tall, broad, mountain of a man round the corner until it was too late. He smacked into him like walking into a brick wall or a stone cliff. Alfred bounced off of him, giving a yelp of surprise. 

“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” He said, looking up to apologize more to whoever he had run into, then stopped. The man glared down at him, head and shoulders taller than Alfred and intense in a way he didn't know a person could be, worse than his grandfather when he would get paranoid and dangerous. 

“S-sorry.” He said again, shrinking back a little. The last thing he wanted to do was get into a fight as soon as he stepped through the gate. 

The man glared at him with sharp violet eyes for a few more seconds before wordlessly breaking eye contact and moving on. Alfred let out a relieved breath and hurried on his way, deciding to not let the scary, intense dude ruin what smelled like it would be the best lunch he'd ever had.

He followed the source of the scent to a bar, the bright pink neon sign above the door proclaiming it to be 'Cannery Row'. He wondered who still read enough to name their bar after a tongue-in-cheek Steinbeck reference after the world ended as he pushed through the door into the dimly-lit interior. 

Someone had tried very hard to make the place feel warmer and cozier than it was, with strings of Christmas lights hanging on the walls and dingy, cracked mirrors lining the walls to reflect light and make the room seem bigger. Oil lamps sat strategically placed along the bar, with bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling. The place was deserted due to the early hour, one lone girl with a ribbon in her hair idly wiping down a worn spot on the bar that she probably spent more time polishing than she did serving drinks. 

“Welcome to Cannery Row, I'm Erika!” She greeted, her voice soft and sweet. 

“Hi, Erika. I'm Alfred. It's nice to meet you.” He said as he sat down at the bar, glad to see his first truly friendly face since leaving Vault 50.

“Nice to meet you too, Alfred. What can I get for you?” She asked. 

“What's on the menu?” He asked. “I smelled something cooking.” 

“Oh, yes! My brother Vash is making mole rat chunks. I couldn't recommend them more. Brother is a very excellent chef.” She said, looking at him expectantly. She'd been so sweet, and he just felt so lost and lonely, there was no way he could tell her no. Even if mole rat chunks sounded like the last thing on earth he'd ever want to eat. 

“Sounds great! I'll have some...mole rat chunks, then.” He said, trying to sound enthusiastic. Erika giggled at him. 

“Trust me, Vault Dweller, it's better than you think it'll be. It's just meat, and once you cook it it barely has any rads at all. It's better than whatever you've been eating. I promise.” She said, and somehow when she said it it managed to sound like a real promise. 

“Alright, I'll trust you on this one.” He said, giving her a sheepish grin. “But if I get sick, I'm suing.”

Erika looked at him, puzzled. “Suing?” She asked. 

“Uhhh, it's a Pre-War thing. If a business violated a health law or something, and got someone sick, they could take them to court and get reimbursed for their hospital bills and stuff.” He said, remembering the legal holotapes he used to listen to when he was a kid. But those memories led to ones of his dad, and his grandpa, and he pushed them away quickly. 

“Huh, that's weird. But I guess I can see why.” She said, wrinkling her nose. “Well, you don't have to worry about that. We run a clean kitchen. The menu just sounds gross, I swear.” 

“Alright, molerat chunks it is, then.” He said, giving her an encouraging smile. She returned it, and Alfred felt just a little bit better. 

“Wonderful! While we wait, why don't you tell me about yourself? Vault Dwellers always have the strangest stories.” She said, a glimmer of curiosity in her eyes. 

“Uh, well...” He said, not sure where to start. His first instinct was to tell her that he'd actually had a pretty normal life in the Vault, but that wasn't really true was it? “Are all the Vaults...” He started, not knowing how to finish the question. 

“A little screwy? Yeah. Vault-Tec wasn't a very nice company. We've had people in who were starved, kept in the dark, had weird psychological tests run on them. It's awful. I was honestly hoping you had some good news for a change. You seem so well-adjusted.” She told him. 

Alfred laughed bitterly. “Yeah, well...it's not that simple.” He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “They told us we were sick. That they had locked us all underground because we could be weaponized against the United States. They didn't...” He stopped, clenching his fist as the rising tide of his anger swelled again. “They didn't tell us anything about the war, about the bombs. I grew up thinking it was all a scary story my Grandpa liked to tell me and my little brother.” 

Erika laid her hand gently over his clenched fist. “That's....that's awful.” She said, her voice as gentle and warm as her hand on his. “I'm so sorry that happened to you. Why did you leave?” She asked. 

“It's a long story. I'm not even sure I really understand it myself. But I couldn't stay, that's the long and short of it.” He said, taking her hand and squeezing it. “Thanks, Erika. You're a good person.” 

“Thank you, Alfred.” She said, squeezing back. “Let me go get your food. Do you want a water to go with that?” She asked. “You look like you've been walking a long way.” 

“A water would be great, thank you.” He said, sighing and reaching down to scratch between Tony's ears. He felt raw and open after talking about the Vault, even if he did feel a little bit better for it too, and he just wanted to find somewhere to sleep for the night and maybe a lead on where some of his grandfather's friends were. Maybe they could tell him what was going on. 

Erika set a steaming hot plate of freshly grilled meat in front of him, the smell of it making his mouth water. He'd only ever had canned meat and tofu. In comparison this smelled like something that had descended from the heavens. 

Alfred dug into the chunks with gusto, trying to somehow inhale them and savor the taste at the same time. The meat was juicy and robust in a way 200 year old meat and tofu could never be, and wouldn't have even needed the ridiculous amount of salt he usually had to put on the tofu to make it taste like anything. 

“This is delicious! You were totally right, Erika! My compliments to your brother!” Alfred told her as he finished off his plate, wiping his mouth on his sleeve and taking a deep swig of the can of cool purified water. 

“I'll pass them along.” She said, beaming with pride. “So, Alfred. Do you mind if I ask you what you did in the Vault?” 

“I was a doctor. Well, a doctor's apprentice, really. I didn't really get to see patients or handle medications or anything, but I had all the training.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. When Erika gasped, he got the feeling that was probably a bigger deal than he had thought it was. 

“A doctor, really? That's wonderful!” She said, seeming genuinely excited. “There are so few doctors in the North Texas Wasteland, especially since the Brotherhood left. You should talk to Dr. Adnan down at the clinic! He's been looking for an assistant ever since Herakles took off for the NCR.” 

So much of what Erika has said had been complete gibberish to Alfred (Brotherhood? NCR? North Texas Wasteland?) that it took him a moment to process what she had said about the doctor. 

“What, did you say Dr. Adnan? Like Sadiq Adnan?” He asked. 

“Yeah, I think that's his first name. Why, do you know him?” She asked. 

“No, but my grandfather did.” He said, a grin splitting his face. This was going to be easier than he thought! Sadiq, a man who featured prominently in his grandfather's stories, was right here in town, was a doctor, and had an opening for an assistant? What were the odds? “Thank you so much, Erika. How much do I owe you?” He asked. 

“That'll be 70 caps total. And you're very welcome.” She said. Alfred opened his lunchbox and counted 70 bottlecaps out onto the bar for her, surprised that he still had most of what he'd started with left.

“I'll see you around, Erika. Thanks again for the tip.” He said, hopping off of the bar stool and whistling to Tony. 

“Come back for dinner! Vash is making radroach stew. I promise it's twice as delicious as it sounds gross.” She said, picking up her cloth and beginning to polish the worn spot on the bar again. 

“For sure!” He promised, heading out of the bar with his hopes higher than they'd been since he'd left the Vault. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

For such a small place, Can Town proved surprisingly easy to get turned around in. After leaving Cannery Row, it took him almost an hour to find the clinic. He stood outside of it, staring at the little white cross inside a red circle that marked it. He had had such high hopes for medicine when he'd started, right after taking his G.O.A.T. at 16. He though Dr. Edelstein was a hero, working tirelessly to cure a deadly disease that threatened the whole world. He thought he was the kind of doctor he wanted to be. But he'd been wrong, about everything. Dr. Edelstein wasn't the kind of doctor, or person, anyone should aspire to be. 

What kind of doctor was Sadiq? What would he find when he walked through those doors? Someone who wanted to help? He hoped so. 

He pushed the door open and stepped into the clinic, the familiar smell of antiseptic and chemical cleaners filling his nose. Despite the dim lighting and questionable atmosphere of the place, it was easy to see that it was kept clean. Every scalpel was in its place, the surgery area free of blood and the bed made with what Alfred assumed to be the cleanest sheets possible. The doctor sitting at the desk hunched over a Pre-War medical journal was similarly well-kept, with stains on his coat kept to a minimum and his facial hair and the hair on his head both well-groomed. 

“Dr. Adnan?” He asked, hesitating in the doorway. 

The man looked up, sharp eyes assessing him like a biometric scanner. He wondered what he saw. The dehydration? Stress? The pale skin that denoted a lack of sunlight that would peg him as a Vault Dweller even if his suit wasn't broadcasting it? 

“You're Arthur's.” He said, blowing all of Alfred's assumptions out of the water and flooring him. 

“His grandson, yeah. How did you-?” He asked, bewildered. 

“You're almost a mirror image of him when he was your age, kid. Minus the eyebrows. Sit down.” Sadiq said, huffing out a laugh. “Seems like we got a lot to talk about.” 

Alfred sat down, beginning to get a little frustrated. Why did it seem like everyone knew more about the situation than he did? “Yeah, seems like we do. How about you start.” He said. Dr. Adnan sighed and nodded. 

“I guess that's fair enough. You look like you're one more secret away from snapping.” He said, leaning back and stroking his goatee. “How much did your grandfather tell you about his trips out of the Vault?” He asked. 

“I'm not sure. He told me what I thought was a lot. About you, and being a caravan guard. About all the trouble you got into, and that you joined up with some organization he didn't like much so he went back to the Vault. And that he'd gotten in trouble with women one too many times to stay, anyway. But I feel like that's probably not even half of the story, is it?” He said quietly, looking down at his hands. 

“I'm afraid not, kid.” Sadiq sighed, “There's a lot more to it than that. Or, maybe there's not. The general idea is basically the same. I did join up with some folks your grandpa didn't like, that's the truth. The Brotherhood of Steel used to be a big deal around here. All the best fighters, and all the smartest scientists and doctors worked for them. It was the only way to get medical training for a lot of people, back then. So when I decided I wanted to patch people up instead of putting holes in them, I joined up. Only, your grandparents didn't like that too much.” 

“Grandparents? Both of them?” Alfred asked, stunned.

“Yeah, I knew your grandmother, too. That's the other part of the equation, you see. Why your grandpa decided to go back home and stay there. After I left for Scribe training, something happened with them. I came back and they were both gone, in different directions if the rumor mill around town is to be believed. I guess she wandered back off to wherever she came from.” Sadiq said. 

Alfred shook his head, refusing to believe that. “No. No, there's no way. My mother was born in the Vault. That means my grandmother was born in the Vault.” He said adamantly. 

“Kid, I don't know where Francine was from, but it wasn't a Vault. You can tell when someone's grown up hard. It's in the eyes. And your grandma had the hardest eyes I've ever seen. That doesn't come from easy Vault living.” Sadiq said. “And your mother wasn't born in the Vault, either. I delivered her myself, I should know. She was born right here in Can Town.” 

“That's impossible! The Overseer would never have let my grandpa bring her into the Vault if she wasn't born there!” Alfred insisted, getting angry now. His mother wouldn't lie to him like that. Except she already had, for his whole life. And his grandpa had too, and maybe he'd lied to her, too. “It can't be true.” He said, with a little less conviction behind it. 

“I'm just telling you what I know.” Sadiq said gently, laying a sympathetic hand on Al's shoulder. “I don't know how your grandpa got your mom back into the Vault. It doesn't matter much now, anyway. You're here, and I'm guessing there's a story behind that, yeah?”

“There might be, but no one tells me anything.” Alfred spat venemously. 

Sadiq sighed. “If you're not ready to talk about it-” Alfred cut him off angrily. 

“There's nothing to talk about. I told you, no one tells me anything! All I know is that the Overseer had my grandpa killed, tried to frame me for it, killed my dad, and tried to kill me. It probably has something to do with the experiments the Overseer and my boss were conducting on the Vault residents, but how would I know! It could be entirely unrelated and I would have no idea because no one trusts me with anything!” He shouted, tears springing to his eyes as everything from the past 48 hours or more came crashing down on him. 

“And now my grandpa and my dad are dead, and Carlos is probably dead, and I have no idea what happened to my mom, or Mattie, and it could be all my fault and I'll never know!” He sobbed, clinging to Sadiq when the older man pulled him into a hug. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Sadiq said gently, shushing him. “It's not your fault. Whatever happened, whyever it happened, it's not your fault. You did a good thing, uncovering what the Overseer was doing. Your grandpa would be proud of you.” 

It was a long moment before Alfred had the composure to answer. “I just wanted to help people.” He said, sniffling softly. “I became a doctor because I wanted to help people, cure disease, make the Vault healthy again. But we were never sick in the first place, it was all a lie.” 

“You're a doctor?” Sadiq asked, letting Alfred break the hug and pulling out a slightly dingy hankerchief, offering it to him. 

Alfred nodded, wiping his eyes. “Yeah. I mean, sort of. I have the training, but Dr. Edelstein never actually let me see many patients. I guess now I know why.” He said, laughing sardonically. 

“Tell you what. You come work for me, and you'll get to see as many patients as you want. I'll pay you, too. It's the best work you're gonna get around here, and you're going to need caps if you want to make it in the Wasteland.” He said, taking the handkerchief back. 

“Sounds great, actually.” Alfred said, giving him a warm, slightly watery smile. Dr. Adnan, he decided, was a lot more like the kind of doctor he wanted to be. He could already tell. “When do I start?” 

Sadiq laughed. “Come back in the morning. You look like you could use a good night's rest before I put you to work.” 

“Thanks, Dr. Adnan. You won't regret this.” He said, beaming as he shook the doctor's hand firmly. 

“Make sure I don't, kid.” He said, returning the handshake warmly. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

Alfred wandered back into the bar, deciding it would probably be quicker to ask where to find a room than to just go around looking for one. Erika was still wiping down the clean bar, and perked up when he walked in. 

“So how did it go with Dr. Adnan?” She asked. 

“Good. He hired me, at least.” He said. “I was actually here to ask if you knew where I could find somewhere to stay here in town.” 

“Sure! There's a hotel on the other side of town.” She said, pointing vaguely towards the west. Alfred gave her a sheepish smile. 

“Actually, I'm having more trouble than I anticipated navigating. Do you think you could be more specific?” He asked. 

“I have a better idea.” She said, coming out from behind the bar and ducking her head out the back door. “Hey, Harper!” She called, standing back as a young girl of about 10 or 11 rushed through the doorway. Her wavy brown hair had been pulled up in a side ponytail, and was dressed in all pink. She also happened to have the biggest eyebrows he'd seen on anyone but his grandfather. 

“What did you need, Miss Erika?” She asked, wiping charcoal off of her hands onto her shorts. He noticed then that her clothes were stained in paint, ink, and more charcoal.

“Are you an artist?” He asked curiously. The little girl turned to him and gasped, Erika's presence suddenly a distant memory. 

“A Vault Dweller!” She said, almost awed. “I've never met a Vault Dweller before! What Vault are you from? Did they do weird experiments on you? Did raiders chase you out? Raiders killed my mum and dad.” A sudden coughing fit cut her off from more questions, but she quickly caught her breath. “But that was when I was a baby. I live with my brothers now, we run the general store!” She caught sight of Tony and gasped again. “And you have a dog! Can I pet him? Can I?”

“Harper,” Erika said, “This is Alfred. He just came into town and he needs somewhere to stay, but he's having a hard time finding his way around town. Do you think you could give him a tour and show him to the hotel?” She gave Harper a sweet smile, and the girl seemed to forget all about her questions. 

“Sure,” She said, holding her palm out and looking Alfred dead in the eye, “for 5 caps.” Erika winced and went to chastise her, but Alfred snorted and counted 5 caps out into her hand. 

“For your trouble.” He said, amused despite himself. The kid had nerve, that much was obvious. “So, where to first?” He asked, holding the front door of the bar open for her and whistling for Tony to follow. 

“Well over there at the gate you have the guard house,” She said, pointing to a long, low shack built into the wall, “where the people who watch the walls stay. They're all a bunch of wankers, and they like hassling the caravans sometimes. Jack, my oldest brother, he doesn't like them.” She wrinkled her nose and spit in the dirt in the direction of the shack. 

“Alright, noted. Stay away from the guards.” Alfred said. “What else?” 

“Well the caravans and traders generally hitch up their brahmin over there.” She said, pointing to a small encampment of tarps and billowing canvas where a lone cow, its hide bald and deformed almost like the thing he had fought the day before, stood hitched to a post and grazing on the sparse grass. 

“The general store is over here.” She said, leading him down the road to the left. “We're the first building you come to on this road, right where everyone can see. I painted the sign myself.” She said, puffing her chest out a little. 

“It's a beautiful sign.” Alfred said. And it was, she had done the letters in a slightly loopy, elegant script that was still readable, with splashes of flowers on either side and a bird with a long forked tail swooping overhead.

“Thank you.” Harper said, a pleased smile on her face. “You should come in some time, when you're settled in. We sell pretty much everything. Guns, ammo, scrap, chems, odds and ends. You name it.” 

“I'm sure I'll be in soon.” He said. “Now, how about you show me where the hotel is.” Harper nodded and hurried down the road. 

“This road actually loops around the whole town in a circle, right back to the gate. It's the easiest way to find anything you're looking for.” Harper explained. “See, there's the school right there. My house is behind it. The hotel is at the back of the town, against the west wall.” 

“So, how many people live in Canton?” He asked. She just laughed at him. 

“No one calls this place Canton except the old people. Call it Can Town, everyone does.” She told him. “And I don't know how many people live here. A bunch? Enough that the caravans come by regularly.” 

Alfred looked at her, assessing her. Harper was slightly out of breath just from walking, and where he'd expect her to look flushed if it was simple overexertion, her face was bone white. “Thanks, Harper. I think I can handle it from here. How about you head home, while we're already close by.” He offered. She nodded, trying to catch her breath. 

“I'll see you around, Mr. Alfred. You should bring your dog when you come to the shop.” She said, waving goodbye. Alfred watched her go until she disappeared behind the school, and even then he was tempted to walk her the rest of the way just to be sure she got home safe. 

“Come on, Tony. Let's go see about a room.” He said, scratching him between the ears and sighing. He wandered down the street, barely registering his surroundings. He was tired, drained emotionally and physically, and when he finally got to the hotel it was like a weight had lifted off of his shoulders. 

The building was taller than most of the others at three stories, but made out of the same recycled tin. Inside, it was brighter than he had expected, with windows cut out of the walls to let light in. The lobby, or what passed for it, was well-kept and tastefully arranged for a fancy shack made out of tin cans in the nuclear wasteland. A lone woman sat on a slightly-singed couch, blue eyes sharp and searching beneath her glasses. 

She caught him looking and smiled, and Alfred returned it. Still, something in her eyes freaked him out. Like the guy from earlier. He thought back to what Sadiq had said, about being able to see a hard life in someone's eyes. He wondered what kind of life she had led to give her a look like that. 

He pulled himself away and approached the counter, ringing the little bell. The woman that came out was short and plump and motherly and smiled at him like she'd been waiting for him to come in. “Hello, dear, welcome to the Can Town Inn. Would you like to rent a room? Only 10 caps a night, or 40 for a week.” She asked. 

“Uh, yeah. I'll pay for a week, if you don't mind.” He said, taking 40 caps out of his lunchbox. Between lunch at Cannery Row, paying Harper for the tour, and his rent, he'd already made a sizable dent in the stash of caps he'd found with Tony's former owner. He was lucky Sadiq had agreed to take him on, he'd need the money soon if living was this expensive. 

“It's room 4, to the left right before the stairs.” The woman said, handing him a key with a little tin can keychain. 

He thanked her and hurried to the room, Tony in tow. He just wanted to be alone, to shut the world out and pretend like nothing existed but him and his dog. He practically slammed the door behind him, slumping down against it and knocking his forehead against his knees. 

He had to look on the bright side. It was only something like 48 hours since he'd left the Vault, maybe 72 at this point, and he already had a job and a place to stay. But he'd had a job and a place to stay before all of this, too. And maybe the job had sucked, but the place had been wonderful. At least, he had thought so. And even now, any place with Mattie and his mom seemed a million times better than a lonely hotel room all by himself. 

Tony nudged his nose under Alfred's arm and licked his cheek. 

“Heh. Not quite all by myself, I guess. At least you're here.” He sighed, looping his arm around Tony's neck and pressing his face into the side of his neck for comfort.

Eventually, Alfred moved to the bed and fell into a restless sleep, Tony curled up at his feet keeping watch over his troubled young master.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

Alfred couldn't remember the last time he had been this eager to go to work. Dr. Adnan hadn't given him a specific time to get there, but he still felt like he was too early. Most of Can Town was still dark and sleepy, the sun peeking over the horizon still blocked by the high tin walls. 

He wasn't even sure Sadiq was awake until the door swung open and the man held a cup of coffee out to him and asked, “Hey kid, are you coming inside?” 

He smiled and took the cup, downing it quickly. “Alright, so what's up first? Paperwork? Inventory? Cleaning?” He asked as he strode into the clinic. 

Sadiq laughed. “Wash up, kid. I just got a runner in from one of the caravans. We've got an emergency surgery coming in.” 

“What!?” Alfred cried, even as he was throwing on a clean doctor's coat and scrubbing up. 

“One of the guards got stung by a radscorpion. If they get here quick enough, an amputation could save his life.” Sadiq said, his voice muffled through his surgical mask. Alfred took one as well, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming scent of bleach. Is that how he cleaned these things?

“Wait, a what?” Alfred asked, taking the rubber gloves Sadiq offered him. “Nevermind. What kind of toxin?” 

“Imperatoxin and pandinotoxin. Both are pretty nasty paralytics at these doses.” Sadiq said, spreading a sheet of plastic over the hospital bed. “We don't have any anti-venom, and it would likely be too late for it by the time they got him here, anyway.” 

Alfred heard the screaming long before he heard the door slam open. Alfred stepped back as a man and a woman carried him in and laid him on the bed. He was writhing in pain, screaming bloody murder and clutching his leg. Whatever a radscorpion was, it had gotten him good. The hole from the stinger was so big that at first Alfred feared that the toxin might also be necrotic, but it was too clean to be dying tissue. The muscles around the hole had bunched up and twisted like the worst charlie horse imaginable. It radiated outward from there in a sick spiral of bulging, twisted muscles twitching and spasming, all the way up to where a tourniquet dug into the skin of his thigh. 

“Dammit.” Alfred swore, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. If there had been any hope of avoiding an amputation before, there was none now. The tourniquet was much too tight, cutting off the blood flow to the limb completely and risking a blood clot that could be just as life threatening as the venom. “Alright, Doctor, tell me what to do.” He said, putting his game face on. Time to save a life. 

“Cut off his pant leg, it'll be easier than trying to get the pants off right now. Then take that med-X and inject it into the Great Saphenous Vein, above the tourniquet. It'll act as anesthesia.” Sadiq said, arranging his tools. 

Alfred made quick work of the pants and took the syringe. Blood work had been the only thing he'd ever been allowed to do in the clinic that wasn't paperwork, and that's because Dr. Edelstein didn't like to take blood. Sticking people, at least, was a skill he had. He found the vein easily on the inside of the man's upper thigh and slid the needle right in. 

The man started to relax a little, but only enough for his screaming to wind down to agonized moans. But as Alfred counted down from a hundred, the man slowly stilled and quieted. “I think the anesthesia's taken effect, Doctor.” He said, watching as the patient's eyes fluttered closed. 

“Good.” Sadiq said, turning around with scalpel in hand. “Hold him down, just in case.” Alfred nodded nervously and braced his arms against the patient's thigh. 

It was a good thing he did, too. When Dr. Adnan started cutting, the screaming started again. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

Alfred watched the blood flow down the drain as he turned off the sink. It had taken them hours, and 5 more doses of med-X, to remove the patient's leg. He was resting now, knocked out cold by all the chems they'd given him. But Alfred still couldn't get the screams out of his head. 

“You did good, kid.” Sadiq said, tossing his bloody coat into a laundry hamper that looked like he'd pulled it out of a trash heap. 

“Thanks. You did all the work, though. I just held him down and doped him up.” He said, shrugging. 

“Not a lot of people would be able to do that. It takes two things to be a doctor, Alfred. A strong heart, and steady hands. And you proved today that you have both.” Sadiq said, clapping him on the shoulder. “You're going to make one hell of a physician, kid.” 

“Thanks.” Alfred said, meaning it this time. “I hope I turn out half as good as you, old man.” 

“You got a long way to go before that, kid. But...we'll see.” Sadiq laughed, ruffling his hair. “I got some more work for you, if you're ready. Kid with the flu needs a check up, think you can handle it?” He asked. 

“You can count on me, doc.” Alfred promised, grinning. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

Sadiq was considerably better at giving directions than Erika has been, but the kid's house was clear on the other side of town from the clinic, and Sadiq had hinted very sharply that there was no hurry to get there or back. He thought maybe it was to give him some time to process his first surgery, and for that he was glad. 

He wandered through the streets of Can Town towards his destination, trying to memorize the route and pick out landmarks. He'd never had to find his way around a new place before. As long as he could remember, he knew the layout of the Vault like the back of his hand. The world had been so small growing up, and earning access to a new section of the Vault was like the discovery of a lifetime. Now it all felt so small and childish. Better living underground, his ass. 

As he passed by a doorway, someone slammed it open. He managed to jump out of the way in time, but it bashed right into the person behind him. He heard her cry out as she dropped the sack of scrap she had been carrying all over the ground, nuts and bolts and broken light bulbs spilling everywhere. 

“Are you alright?” He asked, stooping to help her gather up her supplies. 

“I'm fine. Thank you for your help.” She said, flipping her hair out of her face to reveal the woman from the hotel. “People really should watch where they're opening doors.” She huffed, adjusting her glasses. 

“Yeah, they should. You sure you're okay?” He asked again, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it and hauled herself up, dusting off her dress. 

“Quite. Say, do I know you?” She asked, studying him. 

“Not really. You were in the hotel lobby when I came in yesterday.” He said. “My name's Alfred Jones, good to meet you.” 

“Margeaux Rossi, likewise.” She said, shaking his hand firmly. 

“Are you from around here?” He asked. 

“Oh, no.” She chuckled. “Not me, I'm more of a...drifter, you might say. What about you? You're obviously not from Can Town.” She said, looking pointedly at his Vault suit. “Why did you leave?” 

“Differences of opinion.” He said, wincing. He really didn't want to have to explain the whole confusing mess to another stranger. “I thought I belonged there, they disagreed.” 

“I'm sorry to hear that.” Margeaux said, curiosity and the desire to pry evident on her face. But she sounded sincere enough, and she didn't ask despite herself. Alfred was grateful for that. “Well it was nice seeing you again, Alfred. But I really must go, I've work to do.” She said, hiking the bag of scrap higher up on her hip and hurrying away. Alfred wondered if he'd made her uncomfortable, but if she didn't want to know she shouldn't have asked. 

He sighed and turned to Tony. “Alright, enough dilly-dallying. We've got a patient to see!” He said, bending down to fix the dog's kerchief. A glint of metal in the dirt caught his eye, and he reached out to grab it. A silver lapel pin with an E encircled with stars. He shrugged and pocketed it, deciding to ask Erika what it was later.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

“How did it go?” Sadiq asked, raising his head from whatever paper he was scribbling on at his desk as Alfred came into the clinic

“Alright. Josh just needs to rest and keep hydrated. I guess some things never change, even in the post-apocalypse.” He chuckled. “Stomach flus and chicken pox aren't exactly what I expected to be treating when I left the Vault.” 

“You'd be surprised, Al. Diseases that were treatable pre-war, or with your Vault's medical facilities, can be dangerous in the Wasteland. Josh is lucky, he lives in a town where his parents can afford clean, convenient water. I've seen more than one patient die because they thought they could get by on dirty water while they were sick.” Sadiq said, sighing. “Preventable illness is probably the leading killer out here. Not raiders, not ghouls, easily preventable diseases that our Pre-War ancestors wouldn't have even called in sick for. Do you know how many cases of tetanus I see a year? My kingdom for a booster shot.” He grumbled, the scratches of his pen on the paper growing louder and more erratic. 

“Speaking of shots, I need the syringes sanitized.” He said, gesturing vaguely at the storage room. “Go get the box and bring it out, I'll show you how we do it.” 

Alfred made a face at the prospect of reusing syringes, even sanitized ones. But if everything they used out here was salvage from two centuries ago, he guessed there weren't any clean ones to be had. Still, he wouldn't be accepting a shot from Sadiq until he knew how he cleaned his syringes. 

The storage room was an absolute mess of boxes and stacks of files. Alfred sighed, knowing he was going to have to organize this. For his own sanity, if nothing else. He peeked into a few boxes, finding more chems than anything. There were the kind he'd expect to find in a clinic: calmex, med-X, addictol. But there was also more buffout and psycho than he was comfortable seeing in one place, and several things that looked like they might be chems he'd never even heard of; little red inhalers and syringes filled with strange fluids. 

He'd have to ask Dr. Adnan about all of this, it was unsettling him to think that he might be dealing drugs to his patients. He peeked into another box and grabbed it off of the shelf, inadvertently knocking whatever was under it off the table. 

He set the box back down and bent to pick the cloth up, unfolding it and tracing his fingers over the strange symbol stitched onto it. A trio of gears, encircled by wings and pierced through with a sword. Balancing the box on his hip, he continued to study it as he brought the box out and set it down on Sadiq's desk. 

“What is this?” He asked. 

“Hm? Oh, that's just an old relic.” Said said, taking the flag out of Alfred's hand and examining it with a complex mixture of sadness, nostalgia, and distaste. “It's a Brotherhood of Steel flag, from back when I was a Scribe with them.” He said, opening the top drawer of his desk and shoving it in. 

“What's the Brotherhood of Steel?” Alfred asked. “And what happened to them? Erika said they left, and so did you. But why?” 

“That's complicated. Or, I guess not that complicated when you boil it all down.” Sadiq said, massaging his temples. “It's just not something people in this area like to talk about, much. There's still a lot of hurt feelings and bruised egos. The Brotherhood didn't leave on the best terms. Seems to me they rarely do.” 

“Well if you don't want me to talk about it, you should tell me what happened so I don't have to ask anyone else. I mean, as a former member, aren't you the most qualified?” Alfred said, hopping up to sit on the edge of Sadiq's desk. 

Sadiq glared at him half-heartedly. “Get off my desk.” He said, pushing at him. “Has anyone ever told you you're annoying?” 

“Yeah, my grandpa. But I prefer to think of myself as persistent.” Alfred said, grinning brightly. 

“That's ironic.” Sadiq snorted. “I was just thinking about how much you remind me of him.” 

“Don't change the subject.” Alfred said, his grin starting to crack a little. He didn't really want to talk about his grandpa, or how much he was or wasn't like him. “You're supposed to be telling me about this Brotherhood of Steel you were a part of.” 

“Fine, fine.” Sadiq said, rolling his eyes. “But don't sit on my desk. You'll wrinkle my papers.” It was Alfred's turn to roll his eyes as he grabbed a chair. 

“So, the Brotherhood.” Alfred said, eyes boring into Dr. Adnan. 

“Yes, the Brotherhood.” Sadiq said, unamused. “They're an organization from out of California, but they've spread pretty much everywhere. Their mission is to protect people from Old World technology and the people who want to use it to hurt people.” 

“So, what? They just go around collecting Pre-War tech and, doing what with it?” Alfred asked. “Do they use it for themselves? Lock it up in a store room somewhere?” 

“They study it, mostly. Try to replicate or implement it if they can. How much they extend that technology, well that depends on the Elders.” He said, a note of bitterness in his voice as he drummed his pen on the desk.

“The Elders? Are they like, the leaders?” Alfred asked. 

“Yeah, they're the leaders. And they've got a lot of power, a lot more than they should probably.” Saduq said. “See, what happened was that the Elder who thought they should take on new recruits and share knowledge with the Wastelanders wasn't very popular with some of the people who had come out from California. They were traditional types, thought Wastelanders didn't deserve the knowledge, that they wouldn't know what to do with it. So they staged a coup, killed Elder Vargas, and locked all of us out of the base.” 

“So what happened to them?” Alfred asked, “Are they still there?”

Sadiq shook his head. “No, they left soon after that. I'm not really sure where, but I don't care much either. Good riddance. I hope they got their wish and died off slowly with no new blood.” He scoffed, downing the last dregs of his coffee perhaps a little more aggressively than necessary. 

“What happened to everyone else? Did no one try to rebuild, or get back into the base?” Alfred asked. If it were him, he would have tried to break in just out of spite. 

“The place is sealed tight, with codes only the top ranks would know. Ranks they didn't allow outside recruits into.” Sadiq said. “And there was no way that we could contact the main branch in the NCR, they never would have approved of us in the first place. It was easier to just give up, go back to whatever we were doing before or just wander somewhere else.” 

Alfred stared at his hands in thought for a moment, twisting them together as he nodded. “I guess you're right. Still, it's a shame to lose any organization that trains doctors.” He was quiet for a long moment, thinking over what he'd learned, but he couldn't shake the apprehension over the chems he'd found. 

“Uh, Dr. Adnan?” He said, wringing his hands. “I found a lot of chems in the store room. Chems that don't really belong in a clinic. Psycho isn't something to mess around with. A guy in the Vault got into the stash they left for the security team and got hooked on it, he almost killed someone!” 

Sadiq sighed. “Al, do you know what psycho does?” He asked. 

“It makes you aggressive.” He said, shrugging. “You get angry and violent and you hurt people.” 

“That's the main side effect that the military developed it for, yes.” Sadiq said. “But it also inhibits pain, and it's one of the few things still laying around with corticolsteroids in it, as well as anabolic. I've saved more than a few lives with strategic application of chems that were never designed for medical use.” 

Alfred nodded, but he still didn't feel good about having a huge stash of addictive chems laying around the clinic. “If it's all the same to you, can I organize the stock room? I'd feel better if everything was put away.” 

“Knock yourself out, kid. I was going to make you do it, anyway.” Sadiq said, chuckling. “But do it tomorrow. You had an exciting first day, and our patient will probably be out for another few days. I can hold down the fort here.” He assured him, shooing him off. “Be here at 6, no more moping around my office before sunrise.” 

“Can do, doctor.” Alfred said, giving him a jaunty salute and holding the door open for Tony. “See you in the morning.” 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

Alfred wandered into Cannery Row later that evening, not sure how else to pass his time here. But business had picked up as the day wore on, and there were far more people in here than Alfred was necessarily comfortable with. There were so many more strange faces in the Wasteland, it was unsettling. He hadn't met a new person over the age of a few days since he was a few days old, himself. But these weren't harmless little babies, they were adults with guns and motives he had no way of knowing. 

He hovered near the doorway with his back to the wall, trying to stay small and out of sight. Erika was too busy at the bar to offer him a refuge, and he wouldn't want to bother her while she was working anyway. But he did want food, eventually. But wading through the thick press of people, what seemed to be everyone in town, made him nervous. 

“Alfred, over here!” He heard a voice call. He looked over and saw Margeaux waving to him from a table in the corner. “Come sit with me.” Alfred practically deflated in relief as he hurried over. 

“Hey, Margeaux! How's it going?” Alfred asked as he took a seat across from her. 

“Well enough. And you?” She asked, folding her hands on the table. Her eyes held the same intensity they had the first time he'd seen her in the hotel, and the effect was tenfold face to face. 

“Uh...” He said, making a face. Dead loved ones, run out of his home, attacked by a ghoul, performed surgery, too many people, too much space, a wicked sunburn.... “It's going.” He settled on finally.

“You're quite the closed book, aren't you?” She said, seeming amused by it. “Does the way it's going have anything to do with the “differences” that caused you to leave your Vault?” She asked slyly, eyes boring into his again somehow despite his attempts to avoid eye contact. 

Alfred frowned, glaring down at the table. “And you're pushy.” He said, turning the glare on her. 

“You know, I came from a Vault, too.” She said, her eyes burning as bright as ever despite her seeming nonchalance. “I understand how difficult it can be to talk about the experience afterwards, positive or negative.” Alfred scoffed, but Margeaux continued before he could interject. “You must be feeling so agoraphobic.” She said wistfully, the intensity in her eyes softening for just a second. 

Alfred swallowed thickly and nodded. “There's too much out here.” He said quietly. Margeaux reached over the table to take his hand. 

“I know. But you'll get used to it.” She assured him. “That's why I was pushing, Alfred, I'm sorry. But you look so lost and lonely, and I can't help seeing a bit of myself in you.” She said, smiling sadly. 

“Really?” He asked, wondering how anyone like her could see themselves in him. 

“Oh yes. I was very much like you when I left home. Scrappy, resourceful, young; but scared and alone in the world.” She said, squeezing his hand. “And I know I would have liked very much to have someone to talk to.”

“It's just that I don't really know what happened. Something my grandpa was involved in went South, I guess? All I know is that he's dead, and the Overseer was lying to us.” He said, running a hand through his hair. It still didn't make any sense to him. What was the Overseer trying to accomplish?

“They all do, Alfred.” Margeaux said, the intensity in her eyes returning.

“What happened to your Vault?” Alfred asked. He sensed a sad story there, but he wanted to know. He felt like he needed to know what Vault-Tec did to the other Vaults without knowing why. Maybe it was morbid curiosity, maybe he wanted to assure himself that what happened to him wasn't so bad, maybe it was as some sort of living memorial. He didn't know. 

“It was a long time ago.” Margeaux sighed. “But it never does get easier to talk about.” The way she said it sounded like a warning to Alfred. Your burden will never get easier to bear. Get used to it. “Vault 25 was an experiment in pacifism. How would a society that had been kept from all mention of war or violence hack it in the Wasteland? I guess they wanted to see if Humanity's violent nature would overcome nurture in the harshest of conditions.” 

“I'm guessing it didn't?” Alfred asked. 

“We never found out, actually.” Margeaux said, huffing out a harsh laugh. “The Vault was overrun with feral ghouls the day after we opened the doors, when we were still deciding what to do, where to go first. We were going to leave, make a home out here where we could spread the message of peace and bring compassion back to the topside world.” She laughed in earnest then, as if the idea was honestly funny to her now. 

“Ghouls?” Alfred asked, not wanting to dwell on the idea of compassion being funny. 

“Oh, I suppose you're more fresh than I thought.” Margeaux said, seeming surprised. “Ghouls are...well, they were people. People who should have died of radiation poisoning. Only, they're not natural. Not fully human. So they change, instead. They turn into monsters with burned, half-rotting skin. Everything that might have been human about them once, if they ever were, gets twisted and corrupted until there's nothing but rage and the need to kill.” She sneered, spitting her rant out like venom. 

“I think I came across one of those on my way here!” Alfred said, gasping. “It was in this little cul-de-sac West of here, where I met Tony.” The dog looked up from the floor when he was mentioned, nudging Alfred's hand. 

“Sorry, boy, I know you're hungry. We'll eat soon.” Alfred assured him, patting him on the head. 

“It doesn't surprise me. The area is crawling with them, especially old Pre-War houses. That...thing probably lived there before the war.” She said, a look of distaste crossing her face. “I assume you killed it?” She asked. 

“Yeah...” Alfred said, biting his lip in uncertainty. “But now....I don't know, learning that it used to be human. I feel bad.” He sighed. 

“Don't feel bad, Alfred. That thing, if it was a human once, wasn't one by the time you put it out of its misery. It was a monster, an abomination. It needed to be eradicated.” She assured him. “You did the right thing.” 

“It doesn't feel like the right thing. Feels like I killed a person who was in pain.” He said, looking down at his hands. How much more blood would be on them by the time this, whatever it was, was over? He was supposed to be a doctor, a healer, not a killer. 

“Exactly, Alfred. They were in pain. Immense amounts of pain with no cure. Surely death is the more humane option, no? To suffer for eternity, or to die quickly? I know which I would choose.” She said, taking his hand again. “Please, don't hurt yourself with your own naivety. You did nothing wrong.” 

“Maybe, maybe not.” Alfred sighed, shaking his head. He didn't want to talk about this anymore. The way she was saying 'if they were ever human' was making him uncomfortable. “Anyway, why did you come to Can Town?” He asked, knowing it wasn't exactly the smoothest transition, and that that alone would get his point across. 

“No reason.” Margeaux said, shrugging as she took the bait. “Like I said, I'm a bit of a wanderer. Can Town was just as good a place as any and closer than most.” 

“So will you be staying a while?” He asked, trying to keep the hope out of his voice. He knew he would make friends here eventually, but Margeaux was good company he had already hit it off with, and he'd hate to lose that. 

“No,” Margeaux said, giving him and apologetic smile. “I'm actually leaving within the hour, on my way to Majestic. I stopped in here to have one last bowl of Vash's squirrel stew before I went.” 

“Oh.” Alfred said, looking away dejectedly. “Well, safe travels, I guess.” 

“Don't look so glum, Alfred.” She said, patting his hand. “I have a feeling we'll see each other again. And I do look forward to it.” Her eyes sparkled in the dim light of the bar as she smiled, and Alfred couldn't help but smile back. 

“I hope we do, Margeaux.” He said, holding his hand out to shake. She took it, shaking it warmly. 

“I'm sure of it, Alfred.” She said, smiling enigmatically as she rose from her chair. “I'm very sure.” 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

Over the next few weeks, Alfred started to find his groove in Can Town. Work with Sadiq was going well, better than well. He was learning things under him that Dr. Edelstein wouldn't have taught him for years, and some of the things he was learning were all new advances in medicine directly resulting from the lack of supplies in the Wasteland. It was fascinating. 

That's where he was heading now, back to the clinic. He had overslept and was running late, jogging through the streets of Can Town with Tony bounding happily by his side. He hoped someone hadn't come in for another emergency surgery or Sadiq would be pissed!

He whipped around a corner only to smack into what he thought at first was a wall. When he looked up to see the same scary man with the violet eyes that he'd run into on his first day in town, he gulped and shrank back. 

“You again.” The man said, eyes narrowing. “You need to learn to watch where you're going, mudak.” 

“I'm so sorry! You're right! You're so right! I totally, absolutely, 100% need to watch where I'm going!” Alfred agreed quickly. “But hey, at least you're sturdy! No harm, no foul, right?” He said, chuckling nervously. 

The man didn't reply. 

“Right....anyway, gotta run!” Alfred said, scooting around him warily. “Again, so sorry!” He called back over his shoulder as he sprinted towards the clinic and disappeared through the door.

“Sadiq! I'm so sorry!” Alfred called into the clinic, gasping for breath and doubling over. “I overslept, my alarm on my Pip-Boy didn't go off. I swear it'll never happen again!” 

Sadiq poked his head out from behind the curtain. “Don't be dramatic, kid. Just get over here.” He said, frowning. “You're already late, excuses just make you later.” 

“Right..” Alfred said, joining him behind the curtain to find Harper sitting on the bed. Her hair was in scraggly disarray, her lips were white, and her face nearly bloodless. He looked at him with dim, tired eyes that he'd seen a million times before. 

“Hey, Harper.” He said gently, putting the back of his hand to her forehead and finding it cooler than he'd like. Another familiar symptom. “How are you feeling?” He asked. 

“Like shit.” She said, giving a wet, hacking cough. 

“Yeah, kid, you look it.” Sadiq said, taking some notes. “I'll give you some Med-X and some vitamins, but you know that's all I can do. Take a few days off school, okay? It's the best we can do.” He said, sighing. “Alfred will give you the shot while I talk to your brother, okay?” Harper nodded, and Sadiq ruffled her hair as he went back into the main area of the clinic to talk to Jack. 

“Alrighty, Harper.” Alfred said, grabbing a med-X and a cotton swab. “This is gonna sting a bit, but a mature girl like you can handle that, right?” He asked, grinning at her. Harper scoffed and rolled her eyes. 

“I'm not a baby, I'm almost 11. And I've been getting shots since I was a baby, you don't have to coddle me.” She said, turning up her nose. 

“I'm sorry, Harper.” He said, sincerely. “I'm not trying to treat you like a little kid. Shots are scary for everyone. Even me, and I'm a grown up doctor and I've gotten loads of shots. I just wanted to try and make you feel better.” 

Harper looked at him out of the corner of her eye. “Well...I'm not scared of shots,” She inisted. “But...thank you for trying to make me feel better anyway.” She said, not looking at him. Alfred had to suppress a laugh, not wanting to offend her any further despite how cute she was being. 

“You're very welcome. So, are you ready for the shot?” He asked, holding up the syringe. Harper nodded and rolled out her sleeve, watching with calm, almost apathetic curiosity as the needle sunk into her arm. “Wow, you really are brave. You didn't even flinch!” He said, holding the cottonball over the needle as he drew it out. 

“I get a lot of shots.” She said, her speech slurring a little as the med-X started to take effect. “Every few months since I was a baby, I get really sick like this. Everything hurts, and I get cold, and my fingers and toes get numb. I breathe even worse than normal, too. It really sucks.” She said, whining a little. 

Alfred tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and smiled sadly. “My brother is sick like that, too.” He said quietly as she started to close her eyes. She hummed lightly, acknowledging that he'd said something, but she was dropping off quicker every second. 

“It'll get better soon, Harper. This, too, will pass.” He said, gently lifting her up and carrying her out to her brother. 

“She's out like a light.” He whispered over her shoulder as he handed her off to Jack. “You guys take care, now.” 

“Thanks, mate.” He said, cradling his sister to his chest. “Same to you.” 

“Tony, walk them home.” Alfred said, pointing the dog to the siblings. “Then come back, okay?” The first time Tony had followed a patient home from the clinic, Alfred had worried he'd lost his dog. But over the past few weeks, he'd been having him walk more and more people home just to be on the safe side. 

Jack tipped his hat and let the dog out of the door, leaving Sadiq and Alfred alone. 

“What does she have?” He asked as the door closed behind him, not missing a beat. 

“It's called dFEV. Debilitative Forced Evolutionary Virus.” Sadiq said. “It's a mutated form of a virus created by the US government before the war to create genetically engineered soldiers. It usually turns humans into what are called Supermutants. Big, dumb, aggressive beasts. You'll probably see one eventually, hopefully from a distance.” 

“But dFEV, it doesn't work like that.” Alfred said. “It makes people weaker instead of stronger, doesn't it?” 

Sadiq nodded. “Yeah, dFEV is airborne, unlike most strains of FEV. It's technically everywhere, almost. The thing is, not many people are effected by it. Only about 1 in every 100,000 people show any symptoms at all. Harper's the first patient I've seen with it in over 25 years, and only my second ever.” He said. 

“So if it's airborne, and everywhere,” Alfred started, realization hitting him like a bullet. “Then it could get into any Vault with access to the outside. That's how Mattie got it! It was that fucking tunnel! Everything, everything! It all goes back to that goddamn tunnel!” He roared, slamming his fist into the wall. 

“Hey!” Sadiq said, grabbing him and quickly examining his hand. “That's a good way to break your hand! Don't be an idiot, boy! That tunnel didn't kill your grandfather, and it didn't set up those sick experiments on your family. It's just a tunnel.” He sighed and shook his head. “You're lucky you didn't break anything. Kids, you're all idiots.” Rolling his eyes and grumbling, Sadiq went back to his desk. 

“So...what?” Alfred asked. “What are we going to do for Harper?” 

“We've done all we can, Alfred. I gave her a few supplements, and you gave her the med-X to dull the pain. Keeping her comfortable is the best we can offer.” Sadiq said. 

“Wait, you mean there's no treatment? No cure?” He asked, voice rising again. “No! There has to be something we can do!” 

“There's nothing, I told you.” Sadiq said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We barely have the means to keep her comfortable, Alfred. I don't even have access to the kind of medicine Matthew gets. Steroids for his lungs that I have to get from shady chems, painkillers that don't knock him on his ass for a whole day. I'm doing everything I can already. Inshalla, Harper will live a long life despite her pain and sickness. That's all we can hope for.” 

“There must be something we can do, somewhere we can go that might have the technology! What about Majestic? Or maybe somewhere else? People before the war used to travel all over the country for medical care from experts.” Alfred said, becoming more agitated as he talked. 

“Before the war people had planes, and cars, and maintained roads with no deathclaws. Things are different now, and there's nowhere to go. The only place that might have what we need is West-Tek, the people who made the prototype that the government turned into FEV. But that place is locked tight, and heavily irradiated. There's no way in.” Sadiq said, trying to reason with him. But Alfred didn't want to be reasoned with. He wanted to help Matt, and Harper, and everyone else who was suffering. 

“Then I'll find a way in!” He said, slamming his fist on the table. He winced as pain spiked through it, realizing it was the same one he'd punched the wall with. “I'll blast my way in if I have to. Think about it, Sadiq. This isn't just about Harper and Matt. If we can get into West-Tek, if we can gain access to their facilities, we might be able to salvage some real equipment. Real medication, Sadiq. We could do a lot of good.” 

Sadiq paused for a moment, seeming to consider it. “Alfred, people have been trying to get into that building for over a century now. What makes you think some kid fresh out of the Vault is going to be the one to crack the code?” He asked, eyeing Alfred. 

“Because someone has to do it. Someone has to find a way to treat dFEV, and make real medicine again. And if I don't at least try, I'll never be able to live with myself.” He said, voice rising in pitch and volume as he became more impassioned. “How could I face Harper every time she comes into the clinic, knowing I'm not actually doing everything I can? How can I call myself a doctor if I don't do more than just doing no harm?” He asked, desperately searching Sadiq's face for an answer and finding none. 

Sadiq sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “This is ridiculous, you know that right?” He said, sizing Alfred up. “You're really dead set on this?” 

“I am.” Alfred said, eyes hard and determined. 

“Fine.” Sadiq said, reaching into a drawer on his desk and tossing Alfred a bundle of envelopes and a bag of caps. “Here. I was going to go myself, but,” Sadiq shrugged, “You might as well go for me. It might work out better that way, regardless.” 

“Where am I going?” Alfred asked, looking at the names on the letters. He only recognized one of them, Dr. Wang in Majestic had visited not long after Alfred had come to Can Town. 

“Most of the major settlements in the area. Samuell Farm, Majestic, Fairground. If you're going to find a clue on where to start, you're probably going to find it in one of those places.” Sadiq said. “Plus, it gives me an excuse to make you do all of my walking for me.” He smirked, tipping back in his chair. 

Alfred looked at the letters and the bag of caps and grinned. This was his chance! He was going to find Mattie's cure and save Harper and everyone else and go down in history as the best doctor the North Texas Wasteland had ever seen! He tucked the bag into his belt and shoved the letters into his Vault suit right over his heart, zipping them up snugly as he hurried to the door. 

“Alfred, wait!” Sadiq called, chuckling. “A bit of advice? Hire a body guard. Some of the caravan guards should be staying at the hotel, and they probably hang out at the bar too. Ask for Ivan, he's trustworthy. And efficient.” 

“Thanks, Sadiq! I owe you one, I really do!” He said, grinning brightly. 

“Then get out of my clinic and give me the peace and quiet I've been craving since you got here, brat.” Sadiq snorted affectionately, shooing him off. Alfred's laughed echoed through the clinic as he sprinted off to find Ivan. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~ 

After asking around the bar, it turned out that Ivan was staying at the hotel. He had managed to get his room number off of one of the other guards, and had marched straight over. But standing outside of the room now, he was nervous. What if he said no? What if he asked for too many caps? Alfred honestly had no idea how much the going rate for something like this was. 

He raised his hand to knock, only to have the door open beneath it. To his horror, the man he'd run into that morning was standing behind it, glaring down at him. They stood frozen for a moment, Alfred wide-eyed and mortified, Ivan radiating irritation. 

“What do you want?” Ivan finally asked. 

“Uh....well, the thing is,” Alfred started, wringing his hands and shifting from foot to foot. 

“Get on with it.” Ivan snapped. 

“Right! Of course!” Alfred said, his voice rising to a squeak. “Dr. Adnan is sending me to some other settlements, official medical business. Because, uh, I'm a doctor? Yeah, I'm a doctor. And because I'm a doctor, I'm not that good with a gun? So he said to talk to you and see if maybe you would come with me?” He asked, trying a smile only to feel it start to waver immediately. 

“Where are you going, exactly?” Ivan asked, a beleaguered eye roll showing his impatience with Alfred's nerves. 

“Samuell Farm, Fairground, and Majestic. Maybe some other places, too. But for now, just those.” He said. “I can pay you, of course!” He added quickly. “40 caps a week? It's as much as you'd be paying to stay here.” 

Ivan eyed him, jaw set. Alfred squared his shoulders and stared back, standing his ground. There was no way he was going to let some tall, intimidating, scary guy who was probably way better at everything related to combat than Alfred had ever had a chance of being cow him, no siree. Even if he could probably throw him out of a window with one massive arm. Alfred wasn't scared. 

“It's a long journey, and dangerous. Are you sure you're up for it?” Ivan asked, almost casually, as he raised an eyebrow. Alfred clenched his fists and rose to his full height, hackles raising. He wasn't a short man by any means, but next to Ivan he looked like a child, and he knew it. Still, he refused to back down. 

“Listen here, you condescending-” Alfred started to snap, but he stopped and took a deep breath. “I am a doctor, whether or not I can shoot a gun, I can take care of myself. And, frankly, I can take care of you. I'm willing to bet that you have no idea how to make radscorpion antivenom on the fly, or how to treat a broken leg.” Alfred said through his teeth, jaw clenched as he tried not to be rude. He did need Ivan's help, after all. 

“You're assuming one of us will be hurt.” Ivan said, examining his nails. “If you have that little confidence in my ability to protect you, why are you even hiring me?” 

“Don't be stupid.” Alfred said, sneering. “The Wasteland is a dangerous place. Odds are good that one of us gets at least a scrape on a good day. On a bad day, you'll be damn glad I'm around.” 

“200 caps up front and another 100 caps when we get back here, plus you feed me. If you start running into stupid situations, I leave. If you start drama with locals and get a mob after you, I'm not backing you up. I won't bail you out of jail, run off on adventures with you, or go out of my way for you if it's not part of my job. But I'll watch your back, and I won't let you die if I can help it.” Ivan said, holding out a hand for him to shake. 

Alfred snorted in disgust and rolled his eyes, but he took the hand anyway. Ivan's grip was firm and strong, and his hand surprisingly warm. “Fine, but the same goes for you. Start any trouble you can't finish, or that comes back on me, and you're fired.” Alfred said. He reluctantly pulled 200 caps out of the bag Sadiq had given him, watching his funds for the mission dwindle by almost half. 

“Deal. Are you bringing the dog?” Ivan asked. “I don't see it with you.” 

“He's walking a patient home. He'll be here when we leave.” Alfred assured him. “Which will be at noon tomorrow, if that's okay with you.” 

“Noon is fine, we will meet at the bar.” He said, closing the door in Alfred's face before he could say anything else. Strictly business, that one. He sighed and took a moment to lean against the wall and think. Now that things were starting to move, his thoughts were racing a mile a minute. What if he didn't find anything? What if he did? How would he even get the medicine to Matt? Ivan had closed the door so quickly. Was he planning on running off with his caps?

He pushed off the wall and strolled down the hallway, trying to quiet his mind. It would be fine, everything would work out. He'd find a way to get the cure, or treatment, and he'd get it back to Matt and Harper just fine. Everything would be okay. 

Maybe if he kept telling himself that, it would come true. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“Are you sure about this, Alfred?” Erika asked, concern written on her face. “It's a long way to go, and it's not safe.” 

Alfred smiled and pulled her into a hug. “I'll be okay, Erika. Really, I will.” He said, grasping her shoulders warmly as he pulled back. “And when I come back, I'll have medicine for Harper, and she'll get better.” He grinned. “And won't that be something to see?” 

Erika gave him a reluctant smile. “I really hope you find what you're looking for, Alfred. For everyone's sake.” She pulled away and walked behind the bar, pulling out a brown leather backpack and something bundled up in a handkerchief. 

“You take all of your meals here, so I figured you probably hadn't bought any dry food.” She said, coming back around and handing them to him. “The backpack has some basic supplies in it and some boxed and canned food. The handkerchief is lunch and dinner for today. Vash made it for you, it's grilled radroach and iguana soup. I hope you like it.” She said, offering him a more genuine smile this time. 

Alfred slung the backpack over his shoulder, adjusting his shotgun so he could still reach it quickly. “Thanks, Erika. I had forgotten to pick up food, actually.” He said, laughing sheepishly. “Don't miss me too much while I'm gone, okay?” He said, pulling her into another hug. She returned it, giggling. 

“No promises.” She said. “But I can't miss you if you don't leave, so you should probably get going.” She sighed, shaking her head. “I still think this is a fool's errand, you know. Brother agrees with me, he says you'll probably be killed by a wild animal.” 

“My money's on a ghoul, actually.” Alfred said, grinning rakishly. 

“Alfred!” Erika cried, laughing despite herself. “That's not funny!” 

“Then why are you laughing?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows at her as he ducked out of the door to avoid the rag she threw at him. 

Outside in the high noon sun, it was harder to be so lighthearted. The last time he'd been outside of the walls of Can Town around this time of day, he'd been attacked by a ghoul. But he'd also found Tony, so maybe it wasn't as bad an omen as he thought. 

The dog trotted along beside him, poking his nose into the handkerchief of fresh food, as the two of them approached Ivan. He was leaned up against the outside wall of the bar, looking up at the sky in quiet contemplation. Alfred almost didn't want to disturb him, but they had a schedule to keep. 

“What are you looking for?” He asked. 

“Signs that the weather will change.” Ivan answered. “I don't see any, but that never meant much here. Even before the war, weather in this part of the US was hard to predict.” 

“Well, the faster we get out of here and on our way to Samuell Farm, the faster we don't have to worry about weather changes.” Alfred said, jabbing his thumb at the gate. “Let's get going.” 

Ivan nodded and pushed off the wall. “Lead the way, Doctor Jones.” He said using a pretentiously sweeping gesture to mock Alfred. Alfred, to his credit, just rolled his eyes and headed towards the gate. He wasn't going to let Ivan and his attitude get him down. He had a mission to see through, and he was going to do that with or without the smarmy Russian bastard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have questions, I'm more than happy to answer them in the comments, so drop a little something down there


	3. The Road to Majestic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters get a little shorter from here on out. I don't know if that's a quality drop, or if its just because things happen faster, but that's how it is. 
> 
> For people who haven't played Fallout, it's important to know that there are ghouls and Ghouls. Both are humans mutated by radiation into zombie-looking things, but only some of them keep their mental faculties intact. Basically, the thing that attacked Alfred was just someone who had lost their mind in the ghoulification process.

The shade cast by the Sunnyvale road sign was a welcome relief from the hot sun as they broke for lunch. Alfred had surprised Ivan by keeping up well enough as they walked, but he could tell that the man wasn't used to walking quite this much. 

Vault Dwellers were a crapshoot when it came to skills. Some were useless entirely, some were only good for a lab, and very few of them had any endurance to speak of. A cramped life underground didn't make for strong lungs, hearts, or legs and it showed. Alfred, for all that he had kept stride with Ivan, was drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. Still, he was mildly impressed. 

And quite appreciative when the good doctor pulled out lunch. He said something about the girl at the bar who had given it to him, but Ivan didn't care enough to listen. He was chatty, and Ivan both liked and didn't like that. Right now, he didn't appreciate it. 

“Be quiet, Sunnyvale is crawling with Raiders, and I don't know how far North they come.” He said, wiping his fingers on his long jacket, too long for the North Texas heat, most told him. The man looked at him, shocked. 

“Raiders, like...what like vikings?” Alfred asked, incredulous. Ivan had to laugh at that, too. He'd seen raiders wearing sillier things than horned helmets, but not by much. 

“No, or...yes, I suppose? In the sense that they make their living attacking other settlements. There are a few bigger groups, like the Firefighters in the old Fire Museum, but most are small. Little groups of little people who hurt others to make themselves feel bigger, or sometimes just to survive.” He said, shrugging. 

He could practically see the steam rising off of the good doctor as the kid grit his teeth and got to his feet, pulling himself up to his full height. To anyone else, it might have even been as intimidating as Alfred wanted it to be. To Ivan, he looked like a child puffing himself up like that. 

“That's not right!” Alfred said, louder than Ivan was comfortable with. “Life is hard enough out here already! How dare they steal what other people have worked for! Especially when there are so many good people who would help if they only asked! That's so...so...” 

Alfred was obviously about to go on a rant about something Ivan would have to ignore for his own sanity when a bullet pinged off the sign above their head. Alfred ducked down, reaching for his gun as his eyes scanned the area. At least he had good instincts, even if they came with a big mouth. 

“Good job, mudak.” Ivan said, rolling his eyes and taking a few shots in the direction he thought the raiders were coming from. “I told you to be quiet.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Alfred said, coming up behind him with the shotgun he kept over his shoulder. 

“Don't use that, the range is shit. Use your handgun.” Ivan said, taking a shot at a Raider as she poked her head around the twisted trunk of a dead tree. He saw Alfred swing the shotgun back over his shoulder out of the corner of his eye, then turned his full attention on the Raiders. 

He could see three of them, two women and a man. They were wearing the usual mismatched sets of armor made of scrap and tires that barely covered enough to call it armor. To him it had always seemed more about causing pain than preventing it, with its jagged edges and brutal spikes. 

He shot at the woman again, splinters flying from the trunk as he missed by a hair. A bullet whistled past his ear and he was almost worried. It was taking too long to kill them, and it was starting to piss him off. Things would get messy if he got pissed off. And things couldn't get messy, not yet. Not until he was sure they weren't following him anymore. 

The man fell, clutching his side, and Ivan grinned. Maybe the good doctor wasn't so useless after all. He let out a chilling, high-pitched giggle that had always made his comrades avoid him as he shot the coward hiding behind the tree in the head. 

He didn't allow himself the satisfaction of watching her fall, training his gun on the second woman and firing through her kneecap. This one he did watch go down, strolling over to her with cold eyes, his gun trained on her head the whole way. 

“Where are the others?” He asked, his voice sickeningly sweet. 

“Fuck you, bitch!” She grunted, spitting in his face. Ivan eyed her dispassionately as it hit his face, trailing down his cheek. 

“How disgusting.” He said, wiping the spit off. “You're a very nasty person.” 

“Go to hell.” She snarled. Ivan laughed, high and clear like a bell, and suddenly he could smell the fear on her. He loved it, that moment when they would turn on a dime and go from snarling beasts to scared children. 

“How clever you are. Fuck you, go to hell.” Ivan said, clicking back the hammer on his pistol just to see the look on her face. “I don't like clever Raiders.” 

“There ain't no one else! You got my whole crew.” She said, tears starting to stream down her face. “It was just Linda, Johnny, and me. We come up out of Sunnyvale cause things was gettin' too crowded. You killed everyone, swear it!” She said. 

“Not everyone.” Alfred interjected, his hands covered in blood as he knelt next to Johnny sewing up the hole in his side. “Not on my watch.” He said, almost to himself. Keeping his gun trained on the supposed leader of the crew, Ivan watched as he worked. 

Alfred's fingers, despite how clumsy they looked holding his gun, were like a master pianist's with the surgical needle. He could barely catch the flash of it as it dove deftly in and out of the Raider's flesh, Alfred was working so quickly. 

“What are you doing?” He asked, bewildered. 

“What do you think I'm doing?” He asked, looking over his shoulder to glare at Ivan. “If you hadn't shot that woman in the head then maybe-” He cut himself off and pursed his lips, all of his attention on the wound in front of him. 

Ivan almost felt bad. He certainly felt chastised, though he had no clue why. She was just a Raider. If anything, he should be the one scolding Alfred for whatever stunt he thought he was pulling.

“Hey, what the fuck do you think you're doing? Get your hands off of him!” The woman said, trying to go to her one surviving friend. Ivan casually pistol-whipped her, sending her sprawling to the ground.

“Shut up. My associate here has apparently decided that your friend deserves to live. If you complain again, I will decide that you do not.” He said, eyeing her like she was a cockroach he had stepped on. She shook and cried on the ground, and for once Ivan could find no pleasure in it. 

Alfred finished closing up the wound and wound some bandages around Johnny's waist. He helped him sit up, and drink a little purified water from one of Alfred's own bottles. As if water wasn't more precious than life itself in the Wasteland.

“Why?” Was all Johnny said, his breathing harsh and pained. 

“I'm a doctor.” Was all he said. Ivan wasn't sure he understood any more than the two bewildered Raiders they left there underneath the sign. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Ivan was still puzzling it over as they walked, looking over his shoulder every few minutes to make absolutely sure Alfred's mercy hadn't earned them both a bullet in the back. But the ambush never came, and Alfred never explained himself. 

“Why did you do that?” He asked, giving up on figuring it out himself. “They were trying to kill us. You were just in the middle of a rant about how wrong what they're doing is. So why?” 

Alfred, who had been walking ahead of him silently since they left Sunnyvale, spun around with a look on his face that could kill a Supermutant. “I told you, I'm a doctor. I don't like hurting people, and it goes against my oath to kill. I can't even watch someone die when I know I can do something!” He said, the words exploding out like he had been physically holding them in. 

“They were trying to kill us.” Ivan repeated, as if Alfred simply didn't understand. 

“And that's why I shot him.” Alfred said, pushing his glasses up and pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I didn't have to kill him. And you didn't have to kill that woman, either. But you just...” He cut himself off, sliding his hand down his face and taking a moment to compose himself. 

“It really is different out here.” He finally said, voice small and every bit as young as he looked. Ivan didn't know what to say. He wasn't born in a Vault, he'd never known the kind of safety and comfort Alfred had thought he'd had. Things had always been like this. 

“Which way?” Alfred asked, sounding tired. It made Ivan uncomfortable, in a way he couldn't explain. 

“South, down Jobson. It'll take us right to the outskirts of Samuell Farm.” He said, taking the lead so he wouldn't have to look at the slump in Alfred's shoulders as he walked. “We'll be there in an hour or two, if we keep up the pace.” 

“Let's keep going, then. I want to get off the road.” Alfred said, falling into step behind Ivan. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

By the time they arrived in Samuell Farm, it became obvious why Alfred was so interested in getting there. He was as red as a lobster, his skin delicate and unused to so much sun after a life underground. Ivan might have been tempted to tease him about it if he didn't periodically gaze off into the middle distance and sigh mournfully. 

As they waited for the town gates to open, Ivan searched for something to say to break the uncomfortable tension. But all he could think to ask was “why”. And he didn't think Alfred would take that any better than he had the first time. 

“What's that symbol?” Alfred asked, breaking it himself and pointing to a bit of graffitti on a section of the junk wall surrounding the town. Ivan frowned at it, scoffing lightly. It was an E, surrounded by stars, with the middle line made up of three thinner lines, and he knew the symbol well. 

“It's the Enclave's symbol. Just another group of assholes with their heads stuck in the Old World. They seemed to think they were the US Government or something. I never paid attention to them.” He said. “They're gone, now. They and the Brotherhood of Steel cannibalized each other years ago. The real members, at least.” There was a bitterness in his tone as he said that. There were still a lot of bruised ego in the NTW over who was and wasn't a “real” anything. 

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked as the gates open and they entered Samuell Farm.

“They're enemies, the Enclave and the Brotherhood. Don't ask me why, to be honest. I think they're more similar than different. But they are, and wherever one goes you can usually find the other. They were both very powerful in this area for a while, but that was a long time ago. By the end, both of them were nothing more than a handful of loyalists bunkered down taking pot shots at each other. They just got into one too many skirmishes with each other eventually, I guess.” Ivan said, shrugging. “I wouldn't worry about it.” 

Alfred nodded, but he seem distracted, lost in thought. 

Ivan frowned. He was starting to get tired of seeing that look on the good doctor's face, it made him feel like apologizing. “Let's drink.” He suggested, steering Alfred towards the nearest bar. 

“What!?” Alfred said, trying to wriggle out from under Ivan's arm and failing as the obscenely large man tightened his grip on his shoulder. “Ivan, it's the middle of the day! And I have work to do!” He protested. 

“Work can wait, Doctor. You are only delivering papers, da?” Ivan said, grinning wide as he pulled Alfred into The Crusty Molerat. 

“Actually, Dr. Adnan also sent me to-” Alfred started to say, quickly cut off by Ivan. 

“Details, details. We have more than enough time to drink and get your work done!” Ivan said, waving his hand dismissively and ignoring the deepening frown on Alfred's face. “Besides, you need to get out of the sun, you look like lobster.” He said, finally getting that jab in. 

“For the record, I don't approve of this and I'm doing this under protest.” Alfred hissed out. “And get your arm off my shoulder if you know I'm sunburnt, asshole.” He threw Ivan's arm off and stalked to the bar to sit down. 

“What kind of stuff do y'all even drink out here?” Alfred asked as he sat down at the bar. 

Ivan snorted. “Alcohol is probably one of the few things the Old World left behind that just gets better with age, Alik.” He said, sitting beside him and trying to get the bartender's attention. “And if you don't think humans will make booze out of anything, under any circumstances...well, you just haven't met many people.” 

Alfred chuckled and shrugged affably. “You got me there. I haven't met very many people.” Ivan cleared his throat and sent the man currently holding the bartender's attention a look that had him scurrying back to his table. 

“You will, my young friend!” He assured him, clapping him hard on the back and laughing when Alfred rocketed forward and glared at him. “Two beers, please.” He said to the bartender with a sickly sweet smile. The man went pale and hurried off, their drinks appearing almost faster than Ivan could blink. 

Alfred didn't seem to notice the exchange, his eyes glued to the door with a mix of barely contained curiosity and a hint of fear. Ivan follow his eyes and chuckled, waving over the man Alfred had been staring at. 

“Antonio, privyet.” He said, motioning to the stool beside him. Antonio sat down, his sunken bloodshot eyes honing in on Alfred. 

“Who's the kid?” He asked, his voice like sandpaper on metal. 

“Doctor Alfred Jones. Pleased to meet you.” Alfred said, reaching across Ivan to shake Antonio's scarred, withered hand. 

“Doctor, huh? You look a little young to be a doctor. But I guess with you vault dwellers, you never know.” Antonio said, nabbing Ivan's beer and taking a deep drink. Ivan scowled, but Alfred slid his own down the bar to him and Ivan decided to let it go. 

“So uh...” Alfred started, squirming awkwardly in his seat. “Out of medical curiosity...”

Antonio laughed, the sound something akin to a car engine trying and failing to start. “How long has he been out of the Vault, amigo? No wonder he was staring when I came in. Where did you find this kid?” 

“Hey! Who are you calling a kid? I'm 20 years old!” Alfred said, indignant. 

“You don't help your case any, saying things like that.” Antonio snorted, obviously mocking him. “Besides, I'm over 200 years old, Doc. Everyone's a kid.” Antonio said, smirking as Alfred's eyes widened in surprise. 

“What? How?” Alfred asked, trying to pick his jaw up off of the floor. 

“Hell if I know. Ghouls just don't die of old age like you smoothskins. As long as you don't go feral, it has its perks. Radiation heals me, and there's no use worrying about my liver.” Antonio said, raising his glass. Ivan could practically see the gears in Alfred's head turning as he processed what Antonio was telling him.

“So you've been alive since the war, then?” He asked slowly, thoughts still racing behind bright eyes that bore into Antonio like lasers. “You must be a treasure trove of historical data! Oh, my brother would love to meet you! He's something of a historian, back in the Vault. Not that there's much Vault history to bother with, but he loves going through all the old pre-war junk we have and reading about all those boring old battles and stuff. Man, if I could just get him out here to pick your brain, he would be so stoked.” Alfred grinned, eyes gleaming and his whole face lighting up as he talked. 

Ivan chuckled to himself as it became apparent that they were talking more around him than to him. Not that he cared. Antonio's stories had always bored him, and history was only valuable to him when someone put caps behind it.

“Excuse me.” He said, sliding his stool out from the bar and leaving Alfred to pick Antonio's brain. He shook a cigarette out of his pack and stepped out of the bar, heading for the nearest shady spot. A few other smokers had gathered as well, big hulking guys that were as broad as Ivan if shorter by about a head. He ignored them, content to smoke alone. They talked in hushed voices, Ivan not bothering to catch a word of what they said as they put out their cigarettes and headed into the bar.

Ivan tilted his head back and savored the moment, letting the smoke curl languidly out of his mouth. He had never gotten used to being around people for long periods of time, and it was starting to wear on him between his months with the caravan and his years with the company. Stealing moments alone was easier when you had one companion, content to leave you to your own devices.

He flicked the cigarette onto the ground and stomped it out, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest as he looked out on the town. Samuell Farm wasn't as unique as Can Town with its corrugated tin walls, some with the labels still attached. It was ugly and drab, made of scrap wood and metal like every other no-name town Ivan had wandered through since he joined up with the caravan. The people were ugly and drab, too, shoulders slumped and eyes sunken into dirty faces. 

He was almost ready to go back inside when a commotion drew his attention back to the bar. A fight had clearly broken out, with the shattering of glass and cries of the people inside audible even from across the street. He rushed over, hoping that Antonio had the good sense to cover the doctor's ass if shit hit the fan. Antonio he knew could take care of himself, but Alfred was another story. 

As he rushed into the bar, he was knocked back as one of the other smokers from earlier was practically thrown out of the door at him. He stumbled, barely picking himself back up as he side-stepped the falling man. He looked through the doorway to see who had thrown a whole person into him, only to see Alfred standing there, drawn up to his full height with his fists out in front of him ready to strike. 

“That's for talking shit about my new friend.” He said, stomping over and kicking him in the stomach. “And that's for trying to hit me!” 

Ivan blinked, wondering who was standing in front of him and what they had done with Alfred Jones. No, that wasn't right. This was Alfred, but it was the Alfred he'd seen back in Sunnyvale, full of righteous fury and not afraid to stand up to someone twice his size. 

“Alfred? What's going on?” He asked as Antonio slammed his fist into the other man's face and rushed out of the bar behind him. “Antonio?” He looked between them for an explanation. 

“Maybe we should go back to my place.” Antonio said. “We can talk more there.” 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“So what happened?” Ivan asked as soon as Antonio shut the door to his place, one of the trailers that had been set up along the perimeters of the old park that had become the town. Mostly farm workers lived out there, but Ivan had seen a fair number of Ghouls, too. 

“Place isn't like it used to be, Ivan.” Antonio sighed. “Rumor is the Enclave is skulking around again, or people sympathetic to their cause. You saw the tag out by the gate, right?” Ivan and Alfred both nodded. “Their symbols have been showing up again. Graffitti, flags, people chanting slogans. It's even gotten to the point where people like those assholes in the bar feel okay bullying people.” 

“Is that why you moved out here?” Ivan asked, remembering the room Antonio used to rent nearer to the center of town. 

“Yeah, that's why. Me and most of the rest of the Ghouls.” He said. 

“And people just let them?” Alfred asked, frowning. 

“Yeah, they just let them.” Antonio said, looking at Alfred sadly. “That's how it is in the Wasteland. No one has the time, caps, or ammo to watch anyone's back but their own. You don't just go sticking your neck out for people. Much less Ghouls.” 

“That's such bullshit, though!” Alfred said, looking like he wanted to punch the man all over again. 

“You know it and I know it, kid.” Antonio said, shrugging. 

“What are we if we don't look out for each other? No better than animals.” Alfred muttered under his breath, clearly not satisfied with Antonio's agreement. 

“Preaching to the choir.” Antonio said, clearly amused now. “Seriously, where did you find him?” He asked Ivan. 

“Can Town.” Ivan said. 

“Why does that somehow explain everything.” Antonio snorted. 

“Alfred, how about you go deliver those papers Dr. Adnan sent with you and cool off, da?” Ivan suggested, ushering the still pacing man out of the door. 

“Fine! But if anyone comes around messing with anyone, you come get me.” He said, clearly still looking for a fight. Ivan sincerely hoped he found one. It would be entertaining to watch. 

He closed the door behind Alfred's retreating back and turned to Antonio. “You, my friend, still owe me a drink.” 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Ivan and Antonio were rip-roaring drunk by the time Alfred came back from his delivery, Antonio having produced two more bottles of gin and some vodka. Alfred scrunched up his nose as he walked in, clearly smelling the alcohol. 

“Oh, come on guys. You were just drinking.” He said, shaking his head. 

“Lighten up, Doc. It's the end of the world, remember?” Antonio said jovially, trying to pass Alfred the last shot, which he refused.

“It's the end of your liver is what it is.” Alfred said. 

“If my liver can handle radiation, it can handle gin.” Antonio shot back. “And Ivan's got the tolerance of Thor himself.” 

“High alcohol tolerance doesn't mitigate the damage done. It just lets you do more damage more quickly.” Alfred said, turning up his nose as Antonio tried to coax him to drink the shot. 

“Have it your way, you stick in the mud.” Ivan said, taking the shot from Antonio and downing it. “You're no fun.” 

“I'm fun! You just don't like that I'm right.” Alfred accused. 

“You're no fun, whether you're right or not.” Ivan grinned, leaning in close to Alfred eyes boring into his. “I bet you've never even been drunk.” He breathed, knowing Alfred would be able to smell the gin on his breath. 

“You'd be right.” Alfred said, leaning away from Ivan, his cheeks red. “But I don't see why that matters. I'm 20, I don't need to be drinking.” 

“What does your age have to do with it?” Ivan asked. 

“Well the Vault follows the same laws as the old United States, so you can't drink until you're 21.” Alfred said, shrugging. Ivan's mouth gaped open like a fish as Antonio pointed at him and laughed. 

“Your face! God, I can't imagine you surviving to 21 pre-War. You'd suffocate like a fish without water!” Antonio howled, clutching his stomach and doubling over. 

“Shut up!” Ivan snapped, throwing the empty shot glass at Antonio's head. 

“It can't be that bad.” Alfred said, snorting.

Antonio shook his head. “How long have you been traveling together?” He asked. 

“Just since Can Town.” Alfred answered. 

“Wait until you hit Majestic. The place is crawling with bars.” Antonio said, mirth in his eyes. “He always goes on a bender there.” 

“I said shut up!” Ivan snarled, cuffing him across the head. Antonio just laughed more. 

“Hitting me won't make me wrong, amigo.” He teased. 

“Looks like he's already done for.” Alfred said, eyeing Ivan warily as he started to sway a little. “Maybe I should get us a room in town and let him sleep it off.” 

“Doesn't sound like a bad idea. Go to the Pavilion. Cheap, but the rooms are clean.” Antonio said, ushering Ivan towards the door. “Come see me next time you're in town, ok?” 

Ivan let out a string of curses in Russian, taking another half-hearted swing at him. Antonio just chuckled and practically pushed him into Alfred. “Don't do anything I wouldn't do.” He cautioned jokingly. 

“What wouldn't you do?” Ivan asked. Antonio just shrugged, grinning. 

Alfred chuckled beneath his breath and tugged on Ivan's arm. “Come on, big guy. Let's get you to a room, ok?” He said, leading him out onto the street. The sun was on its way down now, painting the landscape in golds and orangey corals as the light caught the wispy clouds hanging over the horizon. It had taken them longer than either had anticipated to get here and take care of business. 

“Good thing we decided to rent a room, huh?” Alfred asked as Ivan stumbled behind him back into the town proper. “Don't want to be wandering around in the dark.” He said, shielding his eyes from the sun as he tried to get a proper view of the sky. 

Ivan just grunted, trying to walk mostly straight. He needed to stop drinking with Antonio, the old Ghoul talked him up but he could drink him under the table any day. 

Ivan wandered off to the bathroom while Alfred checked them in. The inn was too small to lose the doctor in, even if he was on the small side. Of course to Ivan, most people were on the small side. He giggled at the thought as he stumbled out of the bathroom. 

“What are you laughing at, big guy?” Alfred asked, looking like he was trying not to laugh along with the joke, too. 

“How very small you are.” Ivan said, patting Alfred's head. “You and most other people. So tiny! But don't worry, it's cute on you.” He assured him. 

Alfred's eye twitched dangerously. Ivan didn't notice. 

“You are so small, I am sure I could carry you all the way to wherever you are going.” Ivan said, tapping his chin as he thought. 

“I don't think you could, man.” Alfred said, trying to keep his voice even. 

“No? But I am very strong.” Ivan said, proving his point by sweeping Alfred up into his arms, bridal style. 

“Okay the only reason I haven't punched you in your goddamned face is that you're drunk as a skunk. You put me down right now, or I swear to God, Ivan, I will-” 

He was cut off mid-rant by Ivan jovially saying “Ok!” And dropping him on his ass unceremoniously. 

“I hate you.” He hissed from the floor. “I hate you so much right now.” 

“That's too bad, Alik, because I don't hate you.” Ivan said, a little too sweetly. He wasn't lying, but he would be if he said that goading the doctor didn't bring joy to his tiny drunk heart. 

“In bed. Now. Doctor's orders.” Alfred said, getting behind Ivan and pushing him towards their room. “And let's just say it won't be good for your health if you don't.” He grumbled, practically slamming the door behind them.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Ivan woke up to a splitting headache, a sick stomach, and an all-over body ache that could only mean one thing. 

He needed some hair of the dog. 

He tried to pull himself up, only to slump back down when his head started to pound. He would get up...in a minute. 

He cast his eyes around the room to see if Alfred was still there. He wasn't, but it seems like he'd left something on the bedside table. Ivan picked up the note placed neatly against a cup of tea next to a sandwich. 

 

Ivan,  
The mutfruit tea is good for headaches, and the sandwich should help calm your stomach a bit. Have some water, too.  
Alfred

Ivan groaned and sat up with too much effort for his liking, picking up the tea and sniffing at it. It had a tart, fruity smell almost like grape mixed with cranberry. He'd always liked mutfruit, but had never thought to make it into a tea. He gulped it down it gratefully, hoping it worked fast. The sandwich he ate more slowly with a bottle of purified water. By the time he was finished, his headache has lessened and the violent churning in his stomach had subsided. 

He was still fully dressed except for his boots, which meant Alfred had probably had to help him to bed. He didn't really remember much after leaving Antonio's, not that it really mattered. If he'd done anything too bad, Alfred would likely tell him.

He put his boots back on and shuffled out of the room, finding Alfred in the lobby talking to some woman. He thought she looked familiar, and Alfred certainly seemed like he knew her. Deciding he didn't like the thought of not knowing who the man he was charged to escort was talking to, he sidled up to the two of them. 

“Oh, hey Ivan! You're up.” Alfred said as he approached, waving him over. “Come here, meet Margeaux.” He said, gesturing at the woman. She was pretty, in an almost mousy way, with fawn-brown hair and glasses over blue eyes. “We met in Can Town.” 

“Nice to meet you, Ivan.” She said warmly, extending her hand. Ivan took it, shaking perfunctorily before dropping it. 

“Nice to meet you, Margeaux.” He said, relaxing a bit as it became clear that she wasn't a physical threat. At least not on her own. 

“Now that you're up we should really get going.” He said to Ivan. “It was good to see you, Margeaux. I hope we see you around.” He said, waving as Margeaux nodded and slipped away to the front desk to check in. 

“What's her story?” Ivan asked, watching as she chatted with the desk clerk. So she was just friendly. It made sense that Alfred would be drawn to someone like that. 

“She's just a wanderer, I guess? Her vault got overrun by ferals. That's all I really know about her, honestly.” He shrugged. “Let's just get going.”

“You seem in a hurry to leave.” Ivan said. “What's the rush?” 

“I just want to get on the road, you know? We're done here, why linger?” Alfred said, jerking his thumb towards the door. “So let's get on with it.” 

“Is this about the Ghouls?” Ivan asked, watching as Alfred winced. 

“It's a little about the Ghouls.” Alfred admitted as they walked out into the early morning sunshine. “It's just not right, letting people bully them halfway out of town like that.” 

Ivan sighed. He didn't want to tell Alfred that, according to rumor, it would only get worse from here. “They aren't being bullied out of town. Not yet. But Alfred, you need to know that anti-Ghoul sentiment is at an all time high. A big pack of ferals escaped an irradiated vault not too long ago and wiped out a nearby town.” He said, trying to break it to Alfred as gently as possible that humans were bigoted pieces of shit. 

“But that's not their fault! Ferals are basically animals, you can't blame non-feral Ghouls for what they do!” Alfred protested. 

“I know that, you know that, everyone with half a brain knows that. But when people are scared, they don't think right. They just get angry at the first thing they see that looks like it might not fight back.” Ivan said, looking up at the sky and wondering who their ancestors had gotten mad at when the bombs fell. The government? The “enemy”? Each other, probably, if he knew people. The closest target was the easiest, after all. 

“And the Enclave, they what? Promise to get rid of the Ghouls?” Alfred asked, looking disgusted. 

“Pretty much, yeah. They're one of the factions that want to return to the Old World. They promise some kind of paradise where things are safe and we don't have to worry about mutants. But everyone in the Wasteland is a little bit mutated, and the food we eat is all mutated. There's no going back, but they can't see that. They're too afraid to look ahead, so they look behind.” Ivan said as they reached the gates of the town. As they left, they looked back at the Enclave sigil painted onto the wall. 

“So if the Enclave is coming back, where is the Brotherhood of Steel?” He asked. “Who's going to fight them this time?” 

Ivan shrugged. “No one, I guess.” 

Alfred frowned, that obviously not sitting right with him. But it wasn't like he was a one man army who could take down the growing network of Enclave sympathizers single-handedly. And Ivan wasn't getting paid enough to go on a crusade with anyone. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

As Ivan and Alfred walked over the crest of a small hill, more a swell of land than anything, they heard music in the distance. Stopping to look for the source, Alfred quickly spotted a floating spherical robot with several antennae jutting out of it and a speaker in the front. 

“What's that?” He asked, pointing to it. 

“Nothing good.” Ivan said, frowning. “It's an eyebot. A few groups use them, mostly for propoganda. But around here, they've always been associated with the Enclave.” He said. “They're harmless on their own, they won't attack. But I don't like that we're seeing one in working order. Especially not broadcasting.” 

“Let's get closer.” Alfred said, jogging down the other side of the hill. “We can probably get a better idea of who's broadcasting if we listen in.” 

Ivan followed behind him, not liking the idea but knowing Alfred was right. Even if it was none of their business, Ivan liked to be prepared. 

American Patrol by Glenn Miller filtered through the tinny speakers of the eyebot, not a good sign as far as Ivan was concerned. Patriotic music was a mainstay of the Enclave. 

“I know this song. They played it every fourth of July in the Vault, along with a bunch of other stuff.” Alfred said, studying the eyebot from a few feet away. 

“The Enclave loves Old World patriotic music. They're all about America and bringing it back.” Ivan said, refusing to get within a few yards of the bot. 

“That's not a good sign.” Alfred frowned, backing away from it. “Maybe we should get out of here.” 

Ivan agreed, swiftly making his way down the road, Alfred not far behind.

“Good morning, America! You're listening to Enclave Radio.” A woman's voice came over the radio as the music faded out. But they were gone before they could hear more. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Business had been a lot quicker in Fairground, a town that had (obviously) risen from the ruins of the old fair ground. They had been in and out in an hour with time to spare to get to Majestic. If Ivan had a favorite place, Majestic was it. The theater itself was a hotel and casino now, with one whole wing of the upper seats dedicated to one of the largest bars in North Texas. A few block radius around the theater had been walled off and turned into the town of Majestic, a hive of scum and villainy that Ivan never failed to blow through on his way past. Antonio wasn't wrong when he said he always went on a bender while he was there. 

“Come on, Alfred, one drink.” Ivan pleaded as they went through the gates. “It will be a bonding experience, yes?” He said, practically dragging Alfred towards the Majestic hotel. 

“I said no, Ivan. I don't want to drink and that's my choice.” 

“Come on!” Ivan begged. 

“No, drinking just-” He cut himself off as a commotion inside the gates caught his attention. A mob was surrounding a family of four, throwing trash at them and driving them towards the gates. 

“Please! My children aren't Ghouls, just let them stay!” The father pleaded, his skin in the process of sloughing off and his voice box already severely damaged from whatever radiation he'd taken to turn him. 

“If you're a Ghoul, they could become Ghouls. Out!” Someone in the crowd shouted. The crowd joined in chanting “Out! Out! Out!” 

“Ivan, what do we do?” Alfred asked, looking to Ivan with wide, stunned eyes. Ivan sighed, ushering him away from the crowd. 

“We do nothing.” He said. He should have known something like this would happen. He'd heard rumors of shit like this happening all over North Texas, but Majestic? Things were getting worse than he had thought. 

“What do you mean we do nothing!?” Alfred asked, aghast. 

“What do you want me to say, Alfred? That we can fight the whole town and convince them to let them stay? Why, so they can be surrounded by neighbors who openly hate them?” He asked, resigned. What could they do for them? Nothing, not a damn thing. “Come on, you look like you really need that drink now.”

“I really don't.” He growled, taking a step towards the family. 

“Alfred, no. Just let it go, they'll be okay. Fairground isn't far, they can make it before dark.” Ivan said, holding him back. “Let's just go get a drink, okay? Take your mind off of it.”

Alfred, looking conflicted, finally sighed and gave in. “One drink. Just one, and then I'll go do my job and get us a room, since you're determined to stay over night.” He said, pushing up his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose in frustration. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

 

Of course, Ivan couldn't let him leave after just one drink. It would practically be cruel! So one drink turned into to, into three, into four until little Alfred was well and drunk. Ivan was tipsy himself, giggling along as Alfred recounted a tale of a patient who had come in with something stuck in an unmentionable place. 

“And then he said 'you're not going to tell my wife, are you?'” Alfred said, trying not to snort as he laughed. “And I told him 'Of course not, sure. Doctor-Patient confidentiality.'” 

Ivan's giggles turned to a roar of laughter as Alfred finished his story, glad that he had gotten the doctor to sit and drink with him. He wasn't exactly uptight, but he was a little bit of a square and he could stand to loosen up. 

“How about another round, Doctor?” He asked, waving the bartender over. 

“Don't mind if I do.” Alfred said, slapping a few caps on the counter as the drinks were poured. “Don't mind if I do. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Hours later, as they were stumbling to their room, Ivan heard Alfred mutter, “I'm going to regret this in the morning.” 

Neither of them knew how true it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. See you next week!


	4. Vault 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not an action writer. This is practice for me, so please be gentle if it's not the best.

Alfred woke up the next morning expecting to feel like he'd died and gone to all of the hells. Instead, he popped up bright and early, feeling absolutely fine. Apparently, he was one of the lucky few that didn't get hung over. And lucky was the right word, because he would need to be at his sharpest to fix the little problem he'd discovered. 

He'd checked his caps when he'd first woken up so see how much they'd spent last night, only to find that the answer was damn near everything. Somehow between the two of them they had drunk up over 200 caps, and it left Alfred flabbergasted. How could two people even store that much liquid? He needed to find a way to make some caps quick, or he wouldn't be able to pay Ivan to stay with him.

He left Ivan sleeping in the other bed and emerged into the sunlight, glad for the light breeze as the day was already growing hot. He wandered through town, not really knowing where to look for work. He'd more or less stumbled into his current job, and he hadn't seen any sort of job board or help wanted signs. He bet Ivan would know, but he really didn't want him knowing that he was out of caps for obvious reasons.

Walking farther out, towards the edge of town where more people were gathered, he let his thoughts wander. The town center was mostly filled with traders and tourists, but here you could see signs that people were living here. Kids ran past him, and people hung their laundry out to dry from lines hung between the junk houses set up along the perimeter of the wall. 

It almost felt like being back in the vault, the hustle and bustle of daily living soothing his nerves. He knew none of the people on this side of town would be able to afford to put him to work, though, so he kept moving. Past the rows of houses made of scrap, to a part of the town that was still mostly abandoned Pre-War buildings. 

He saw three men whispering to themselves down an alley and decided to walk a little quicker, not wanting to get caught up in anything shady. But before he could get out of their line of sight they spotted him, and he locked eyes with the tallest of them, a man with medium-length brown hair and green eyes. The group hurried over to him, a strange glint in their eyes somewhere between hopeful and conniving. Alfred gulped and tried to back away, but they were too quick for him, quickly surrounding him. 

“Hello, good sir, how are you today?” A man with blonde hair and glasses asked, eyeing Alfred's shotgun and the pistol at his hip in a way Alfred didn't like. 

“I'd be better if you told me what you were selling.” He said. They had that look about them, like they wanted something. They were either selling, buying, or looking to hire. Which could work out in his favor. 

“Oh no, nothing like that!” The small blonde assured him, his voice trembling. Now that he thought about it, they all seemed weirdly scared. Looking over their shoulders as they talked, their voices and bodies trembling slightly.

“We're looking for someone to do a job for us. Nothing too hard, of course.” The brunet said. “My name is Toris, Toris Laurinaitis, and I want to bring television back to the wasteland!” He said, stars practically shining in his eyes. “Can you imagine it? News programs, weather reports, emergency bulletins-” 

“Soap operas!” The smallest of the three cried out, unable to contain himself. 

“Yes, Raivis, Soap Operas, too.” Toris assured him. 

“Dude, that's so cool!” Alfred said, picturing himself kicking back after a long day at the clinic and watching the latest television program like they used to do back before the war. They still had some of those old TV shows adapted into holotape plays that you could play on a Pip-Boy, but to be able to actually see them? That would be amazing. “So, what do you need?” He asked. 

“Well, there's actually an old station not far from here with a bunch of the equipment I need and a broadcast tower. If I could get into the building, Eduard here could get it up and running and we could go from there.” Toris said. Then he sighed, hanging his head. “The only problem is that the building is full of mole rats. We're all terrified. We're not fighters! I'm a director, Eduard is a technician, Raivis is a writer. We're not equipped to fight off those beasts. But maybe you could?” Toris suggested. 

Mole rats? He could probably handle a few mole rats, right? 

“Show me where, I'll see what I can do.” He said brightly, sure that he had this under control.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

He did not have this under control.

Pain burned from scratches on his arms and legs and all of the running away was forming a stitch in his side that was making it hard to breathe. Tony had already taken a nasty bite to one of his legs upstairs, and was whimpering lowly. Now in the basement, hiding from four mole rats that miraculously had yet to see him, Alfred regretted every choice in his life that had led him up to this point. 

He was crouched behind an overturned table, trying to use it to steady the shotgun. There had been way more mole rats than he'd anticipated, and he still wasn't that great a shot. He wished Ivan were here, he'd be able to take these things out in two seconds. He sent up a quick prayer to whoever was listening, hoping this ended quickly.

“Alright, you little assholes. Taste my boomstick.” He murmured to himself as he lined up the shot, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly, pulling the trigger halfway through the exhale like his dad had shown him when he was a kid. 

The molerats hissed and scattered as one fell to the ground, twitching as it died. But the problem was now there were three still living who knew exactly where he was hiding. He pulled out his handgun, not trusting himself with the shotgun at close range. The recoil had almost knocked him flat on his ass once upstairs, and he didn't want a repeat at the worst time. 

He let off another shot, which went wide in the extreme, as Tony ran down one mole rat and sank his teeth into it's neck. He really needed to practice shooting at moving targets. Another shot and the mole rat Tony was holding went down. But it was too late, the other two were already on him. He felt their teeth tear through the leg of his vault suit, scraping across his skin. 

He put a bullet between the eyes of the one biting him, stumbling back as the next one lunged. It sailed past where his head had been a moment before, landing behind him. He whirled around, firing off a few more shots, none of which hit. He was wasting bullets, bullets he didn't have caps to replace. 

The mole rat lunged again, sinking its teeth deep into his arm. He screamed then, bringing the hilt of the gun down on its head again and again, trying to get it to come off. Finally it let go, it's head a bloody mess where Alfred had beaten it. Panting from pain and exertion, he shot it to make absolutely sure it was dead. 

Limping towards the back of the room, he pulled a tarp off of a wall of TV displays. “Looks like everything's still here.” He said, noting that the screens weren't even cracked. He pulled a few more tarps to find cameras, light fixtures, everything the men would need to get their television station running. Or that's what it looked like to him, at least. 

Satisfied that there were no more rats lurking around corners or under tarps, Alfred limped back up the stairs and out into the sunshine. He was covered in centuries-old dust, bites and scratches from wild animals that he had no idea what kind of diseases they carried, and he just wanted to go back to his room at the hotel and sleep for a week.

They were waiting out there for him, hope on their faces as he trudged over to them. “So? Did you clear them out?” Toris asked. 

“Yeah, yeah. The rats won't be a problem anymore.” He said, waving them off as they started to crowd around him with their gratitude. Not that Alfred hated the attention, quite the opposite, but he was tired and he just wanted to get paid and go. Tony limped up to him and licked his hand, clearly of the same mind.

“As promised, your 300 caps for the job.” Toris said, handing him a sack that jangled as it changed hands. “If there's anything else we can do to repay you, just let us know. A free television, maybe? A part in one of our shows?” Toris asked. 

“Yes! He'd be perfect, just look at that jaw line!” Raivis said. Alfred raides an eyebrow and touched his jaw. Was that..was that a good thing? 

“Uh...no, nothing like that.” He said, sheepish that they thought he could ever be an actor. “But actually, I do kind of need something. Do you guys know anything about the old West-Tek facility?” He asked, knowing it was a long shot. But he'd been asking everyone he talked to for more than a second and he wasn't about to give up now. 

The three of them looked at each other, seeming to deliberate wordlessly between the three of them before reaching a conclusion. Toris nodded and pushed Raivis gently forward. “Go ahead, Raivis. Tell him what you know.” 

The boy looked equal parts scared and excited to tell his story. “Well...they say there's no way in, right? That it's locked tight and heavily irradiated, right?” 

“Yeah.” Alfred said warily, wondering where this was going. 

“Well, it may not be as locked down as we all thought.” He said conspiratorially. “Rumor has it there's a old access tunnel buried somewhere near the facility. Only, no one knows where it is. But I heard a few months ago that someone found the coordinates on an old Pip-Boy.” 

Alfred's eyes widened. A way in? And a way to find it? This is exactly what he'd been looking for! “Where? Who? Who has it?” He asked, grabbing Raivis by the shoulders. The boy started to shake, clearly scared of this odd, enthusiastic man who had no idea what personal space was. 

“I don't know!” He cried. “All I know is that it's some kind of special Pip-Boy, not your standard issue.” He said, trying to break Alfred's hold on him. Alfred patted his shoulder and let him go. “You might be able to find out more at Vault 49. It was a Vault-Tec monitoring facility before the war. It's overrun with supermutants now, though.” 

“Thanks, buddy! You really did me a solid!” He said, grinning ear to ear. He didn't hear the warning about the supermutants, he was so excited. He had a way in! Or a way to find a way in, at least. He was going to go, he was going to find that Pip-Boy, and he was going to cure dFEV.

He sped off towards the hotel, leaving the TV trio confused and bewildered as to what had just happened.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred barged into the room, breathless and excited, to find Ivan just waking up looking like death warmed over. Ivan groaned as he caught sight of Alfred, throwing himself back into bed and rolling to turn his back to him.

“Whatever it is, I don't care.” Ivan groaned, covering his head with a pillow. 

“Even if I'm paying you for it?” Alfred asked slyly. 

Ivan turned over and rolled his eyes. “What is it?” He asked. 

“A lead, some information I need is in Vault 49. There's an extra 100 caps in it for you if you help me track it down.” Alfred said, shaking the sack of caps he'd gotten from Toris so that is jingled in Ivan's face. “And maybe I'll need more help, if I find anything.” 

“What kind of information?” Ivan asked, suspicious. Alfred's grin fell, and he debated whether or not he should tell Ivan what he was trying to do. Sadiq had told him it was a fool's errand, and Ivan was a practical kind of guy. What if he laughed in his face? 

“A cure for dFEV.” He said, letting out a breath. “I know, I know, it sounds far-fetched. But if you'll just hear me out-” 

Ivan cut him off with a laugh. “A cure for dFEV? Are you crazy? There's no one in the NTW with that kind of technology. You should know, you come from a cozy Vault with doctors and chemists and real medication.” 

“Ivan, listen to me! If I can just get into West-Tek.” He said, but Ivan interrupted him again. 

“West-Tek? Is that what this is all about? You're chasing down that old fairy tale?” Ivan asked, incredulous. “I thought you were more practical than that, Doctor.” Alfred rankled at the disapproval in his voice. 

“This is practical! That building could hold the key to curing diseases that have plagued the Wasteland since the bombs dropped! The kind of knowledge and technology in there could save thousands of lives, hundreds of thousands even! Imagine it, Ivan. Imagine no one dying of the flu, or the measles, or living sick for the rest of their lives from dFEV. West-Tek created a virus, surely we can use their tech to cure some.” Alfred said, that same righteous fury shining out of him that Ivan had come to so admire in him. 

“Alfred, do you even know what's in Vault 49?” He asked, sighing. 

“It's a Vault-Tec monitoring facility. It should have a way to track all the Pip-Boys in the area. I'm looking for a specific one, one that has the coordinates for an access tunnel into West-Tek.” Alfred said, his eyes lighting up. Ivan was actually taking him seriously now! 

“That's not what I meant.” Ivan said, frowning. “Do you know what you'll find there? Vaults are rarely empty, you know.” 

Alfred's smile dropped. “I hadn't thought of that.” He said. 

Ivan sighed and just looked at him, studying him closely. Alfred walked to his bed and sat slumped, the hope he'd been filled with before leaving him in one swift breath. They said nothing, Ivan continuing to just watch him. After a few long minutes he sighed and shook his head. 

“You really think that you can find a way into West-Tek?” He asked. 

“We won't know until we try, right?” Alfred said.

“If this doesn't pan out, I'm done.” Ivan said sternly. Alfred looked at him, eyes wide and heart in his throat. Was he saying? “If this place is crawling with Deathclaws, I'm done. And you better give me that 100 caps up front, because you're not dying on me without paying me.” 

“So you'll go!?” Alfred asked, shooting up off of the bed. 

“We'll check it out.” Ivan said, frowning. “I'm not promising anything.” 

Alfred cried out in joy and launched himself onto Ivan, squeezing him tight around the neck. Ivan just sighed and patted him on the back. 

“Thank you! Oh, thank you! Thank you!” Alfred said, squeezing him tighter until Ivan almost couldn't breathe. 

“Don't make me regret this.” Ivan warned. 

“I'll try my best!” Alfred quipped, finally letting go. “Come on, let's go!” He rushed to gather up his things, not noticing the unamused look on Ivan's face. 

“Alfred, you're bleeding and I'm hung over. Can we at least get breakfast first?” He asked, his voice almost a whine. 

“Alright, alright. Breakfast and then we go.” Alfred agreed. “And...maybe I should patch me and Tony up.” He said sheepishly as the dog limped over and licked some blood off of his arm.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“Hey, Margeaux!” Alfred called as he and Ivan entered the dining area of the hotel, set up in one corner of the lobby. “Didn't think I'd see you here.”

“Oh, Alfred. And Ivan, too I see.” She said as they approached. Tony trotted up to her, sniffing her hand and butting his head up under it for pets. “And Tony, too, of course.” She said warmly, scratching him between the ears. “What brings you to Majestic?” She asked. 

“Oh, I'm here to drop some things off for Doctor Wang.” Alfred answered. “Ivan here is sorta my escort. You know, fragile Vault Dweller and all that.” He joked self-deprecatingly. 

“Not that fragile, if you made it this far.” Margeaux said reassuringly. “Or have you just been lucky?” She asked. 

Alfred winced, thinking of the raiders outside of Sunnyvale, and the mole rats that he really should have left to someone else. “Not that lucky, but not unlucky either I guess.”

“Unlucky enough, what's this?” She asked, looking at the bandage around Tony's leg and then to the one on Alfred's arm. 

“I could ask the same question.” Ivan said. He hadn't asked yet how Alfred had gotten injured, and for that Alfred was grateful. But he hadn't missed the suspicious looks as he'd doctored himself up. 

“Oh, that? Just a bad run in with some mole rats. Nothing serious.” He assured them both. He had no idea what either of them would say if he told them he'd cleared out the studio for a trio of pipe dreamers and almost gotten his ass handed to him in the process. 

“Mole rats? Here in town?” Margeaux asked, frowning. “Majestic has really gone to the dogs, hasn't it?” She sighed. “No offense, Tony.” 

“It wasn't exactly in town.” Alfred muttered. Margeaux and Ivan both raised an eyebrow at that. 

“What have you been up to, Alfred?” Margeaux asked conspiratorially. 

“Nothing! Just, helping some people out. It's what I do. Help out.” He said, chuckling nervously. Margeaux just laughed. 

“Well, if you're so helpful, maybe you could give me some directions?” She asked. “I need to get to 508 Park, maybe one of you know where it is?.” 

“The junk dealer's?” Ivan asked. “I know where that is. Let me see your Pip-Boy.” He said, crossing over to Margeaux as she offered him the device on her arm. Apparently, not that Alfred had known, one could just program coordinates into the Pip-Boy and it would display the location on the map. That would have been handy to know coming to Can Town. Thanks again for all of the helpful info, gramps. 

“Thank you so much, Ivan.” Margeaux said as she shut her Pip-Boy. “And luckily, it's very close by. I should get going.” She said, gathering up her things and finishing her bottle of water. “Again, thank you so much. I would have been wandering around for quite a while without your help.”

“It was nothing.” Ivan said, his face impassive. “Come on, Alfred. Let's get some food.” He nudged Alfred towards the stall where someone was grilling a whole radroach over an open flame. Not long ago, the thought alone would have made him gag. Now, though? He couldn't think of anything more appetizing. 

“See you around, Margeaux.” He said, waving absent-mindedly as he wiped the drool off of his chin.

“Do you find it strange that we keep running into her?” Ivan asked. 

“Not really? She was coming from Can Town, too, and said she was headed towards Majestic. She just took a lot longer to get here than we did. She's a drifter, she probably stopped to take on work or just rest or something.” Alfred said, shrugging. “And now that she's off to that junk dealer, and we're off to Vault 49, we probably won't see her again.” 

“Yeah...Yeah, you're right. It's nothing.” Ivan said, still watching Margeaux's retreating figure.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

After breakfast, Ivan had insisted on delaying them again by going to the bar for “information”. Alfred refused to step foot inside, knowing now that alcohol was the devil and that he never wanted to drink again.

Despite what Alfred had assumed, Ivan came out after one beer and with actual information. 

“Supermutants.” Ivan said as he came out, grin much too wide for the word he'd just uttered. 

“The giant green men who eat people? Why are you saying that like it's a good thing?” Alfred asked, suddenly worried that he was traveling with a madman. 

“Because there's a reward for clearing them out. 500 caps if we come back alive, and we're going to split it.” He said, his eyes practically turning into bottle caps. 

“That's 250 caps each for something we were already going to do.” Alfred said, his grin widening to match Ivan's. “Sounds like we need to hit up the gun shop and stock up on ammo.” He said. 

“And maybe get you some armor. A cheap set of combat armor can make all of the difference.” He said.

“Right.” He said, looking down at his flimsy Vault suit. It was ripped and torn in a few places now, and the dust had somehow fused itself into the fabric. It wasn't exactly the sturdiest of protection, from the elements or from bullets. “Weapons and armor then we roll out, okay? I want to get there and hopefully back before dark.” 

“You really have no idea what we're in for, do you?” Ivan asked, almost seeming amused.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

The combat armor that Alfred had bought was ill-fitting, and rode up in areas he'd rather not mention, but it looked like it could stop a bullet well enough and that's all he needed. He felt kind of like a dork in the helmet, though. Less like a soldier and more like a kid on a bike.

“Okay, so the layout of most vaults is more or less the same, da?” Ivan said as they his behind some rocks outside of the entrance to the vault. “So you should be able to find the Overseer's office quickly enough while I do the bulk of the work taking care of the muties.” 

Alfred nodded, feeling a bit queasy as he watched a big green monster pacing back and forth outside of the broken vault door. Had they ripped it off its hinges like that, or had it just rusted off? They couldn't be that strong, could they? There was no way. 

“Alfred, are you listening?” Ivan asked, exasperated. Alfred turned his bone-white face to Ivan and nodded. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm listening. Go inside the monster-infested vault, somehow make it to the Overseer's office, and access the information we need if it even exists. Got it. We're good, we are so good. I am definitely listening and not freaking out that there are monsters here. No siree, not me.” He said, the words coming out in a breathless jumble. 

“Alfred!” Ivan said, stopping him mid-babble. “I need you to calm down. I need to be able to count on you in there. Can I do that?” He asked. 

The words echoed in Alfred's head. Can I count on you? His father had asked him that, too. And in a lot of ways, he'd let him down. He couldn't let Ivan down like that, too. And he couldn't let Matt and Harper down, either. 

“Yeah.” He said, closing his eyes and taking a deep steadying breath. “Yeah, I'm good.” He said, meaning it. When he opened his eyes there was steel in them, and he stood a little straighter where he was crouched behind the boulder and squared his shoulders. Ivan nodded in approval. 

“Okay. I'll take out this first one. Stay behind the rocks in case more come.” Ivan said, inching out from behind the boulder and taking aim with a combat rifle he had purchased I before they left. Alfred watched as Ivan seemed to relax more than he'd ever seen him. Even when he was sleeping he'd never looked that at ease. 

Suddenly, a loud bang issued from the gun as Ivan pulled the trigger, the bullet slamming into the Supermutant's head. Unlike the Raider, this apparently didn't mean game over for the big green man as it cried out in agony and began looking around for the culprit. 

Not giving the mutant time to recover, Ivan fired off another shot into its head, watching with a satisfied smirk as this time it dropped to the ground. 

“Not all of them will be that easy.” Ivan assured him as he slipped out from behind cover, waving for Alfred to join him. 

“No, you mean to tell me we won't get the drop on every one of them in here?” He whispered, following behind Ivan as he snuck in through the destroyed door. 

“Don't be a smartass, Alfred. It'll attract attention.” Ivan said, smirking. Alfred just rolled his eyes and mimicked zipping his lips. 

The vault was almost completely dark, the main power having clearly run out or been switched off a long time ago in favor of the back up generators. The only light came from the eerie glow of the emergency lighting system, and every corridor seemed to be smeared with blood. 

“Oh god, the smell.” Alfred whispered, dismayed. “It's almost worse than it looks.” 

“Just breathe through your mouth.” Ivan whispered back, wincing as he stepped in a pile of something squishy and wet. 

“I don't want to breathe this stuff in through my mouth!” Alfred said, almost gagging as he did as he was told. “Oh this is so gross.” 

Debris littered every surface as the snuck through the tunnels. Bags of guts and bones bound up in chicken wire hung from the ceiling, and everywhere they looked there was more blood: on the walls, on the floor, even on the ceiling. 

“We should be coming up on the lower atrium.” Alfred said as they rounded a corner. “We'll have to go across to get to the stairs.” 

The atrium was a mess of more gore bags and blood. The mutants seemed to have set it up as their main camp, with a noxious fire smoking in the center, surrounded by jagged, bloody pikes and more gore bags. Alfred could make out the forms of two hulking Supermutants through the smoke, skulking next to the fire. 

“Think we can get past them?” He asked Ivan in a whisper. Ivan shook his head. 

“That's not the job, remember? We're supposed to clear them out. I'll take the one on the left, you go right?” He suggested, loading his rifle. 

“Right.” Alfred sighed, loading his shotgun and hoping his aim had somehow magically improved since that morning. At least he had a bigger target, this time. 

He crept through the shadows around to the right, keeping his eye on the hazy silhouette of the mutant as he went. They didn't seem to know they were there yet, which was good, but it was only a matter of time before one of them noticed. 

The heavy fall of his boot echoed in his ear as he accidentally stepped too hard. Ducking behind a barrier of twisted steel beams that the Supermutants had put up as some form of fortification, he heard one of them perk up and say “What was that?” 

Suddenly, there was a hail of gunfire as one of them discharged their minigun in a semicircle around them, trying to drive them out. “I know you're here, puny human! I can smell your blood.” It cackled. Alfred looked down to where red was blossoming across his bandage, swearing to himself. 

Another gunshot and the mutant was bleeding heavily from its shoulder and alerted to Ivan's position. A storm of minigun fire and then quiet. 

Alfred peeked out around the barricade, seeing both of the mutants with their backs to him, facing where Ivan had been moments before. He sent up a quick prayer for his and Ivan's safety as he ducked out from his hiding place and took a shot at the bleeding Supermutant as he ran for cover behind a pillar. 

He heard a strangled cry and the thud of a body hitting the ground and sighed in relief. The one with the minigun was down, but that left him wide open to the other one. Which he regretted immediately as it came charging towards him swinging a baseball bat covered in nails. 

“Oh shit!” He said, running for his life as he was chased by the bat-wielding mutant. 

“I just want to play, little human. Come back!” It laughed maniacally as it swung the bat at where Alfred's head had been only moments before, getting the bat stuck in the pillar. With one great jerk, it easily freed the bat, chasing Alfred down. 

“Ivan! A little help here!” Alfred called, rolling out of the way of another strike. 

“Bring it around this way, and be ready to duck!” Ivan called. Alfred didn't like the sound of that, but he had no choice. He ducked, dodged, and wove around the encampment in the middle of the atrium as he avoided blow after blow. 

He could see Ivan now, crouched down with his rifle at the ready. “NOW, ALFRED!” He cried, firing off the shot even as Alfred dove out of the way. He could have sworn he felt the hot trail of air the bullet let in its wake brush past his ear as he fell. 

He rolled into a crouch, readying his own gun in case that hadn't been enough. But as the Supermutant stood there, swaying in place with a huge hole where one if its eyes used to be, it was clear they were both safe for now. 

Alfred leaned heavily against the pillar, trying to catch his breath. He could feel his heart still hammering in his chest, and his vision was swimming at the edges. 

“There's probably more.” Ivan warned. “And they heard us.” 

Alfred nodded, but didn't say anything, he couldn't through the painful stitch in his side. 

“We should keep moving, in case they're coming to investigate.” Ivan said, loading his gun again and heading towards the opposite side of the atrium from where they'd come in. “Up the stairs?” He said, looking at the faded signs. Alfred nodded. 

They made their way up the stairs as quickly and quietly as they could, Alfred especially being careful with every step after the incident downstairs. 

“The Overseer's office should be at the end of this hall.” He said, creeping past room after empty room. “It looks like we should get there without a problem.” He said, giving Ivan a thumb's up. 

“Don't count on it. I don't like how quiet this has been.” Ivan said, frowning. “Only three so far? Surely there are more in a vault this size?” 

“Let's just get to the office and we'll see if the security feeds are still up. That will give us a better idea of what's here.” Alfred said, trying not to picture this place in its heyday and wondering where all the residents had gone. He hoped they had just moved on, but something told him that wasn't the case. 

The door to the office was already cracked, the sliver of light from the doorway already the brightest thing they'd seen since entering the Vault. Alfred peeked in and, seeing nothing, pushed it open carefully. Somehow at least half of the screens were still running, showing that the reactor level had been flooded and that every room they could see was covered in blood and filled with gore bags, but empty. 

“Looks like we're alone after all.” Alfred said, coming out of his crouch and striding quickly over to the terminal at the desk. “Keep watch while I do this, just in case.” He said cracking his knuckles as he got to work hacking into the terminal. 

“Hurry up, I want to check the upper levels before something gets the drop on us.” Ivan said, standing in the doorway and filling almost the whole frame. 

It wasn't actually that hard to get in, and Alfred had pulled up the map in under a minute. There were several groups of Pip-Boys scattered across the map. One in Majestic where he knew a lot of Vault 55 residents had settled there, glad for the entertainment after going their entire lives without anything to pass their leisure time. Another in Vault 50, obviously. One strange thing was that there was a Vault 50 Pip-Boy in the old heritage village. But what interested him were the yellow dots denoting non-standard Pip-Boys. There were 2 signals. One was in the old Fire Museum, one in the Dallas County Courthouse.

“Okay, Ivan, I think I-” He started, hearing a 'thunk' and looking up to see a Supermutant looming over Ivan's prone body with a huge, blood-stained board. 

“Stupid humans come to Supermutants home. Stupid humans become Supermutants dinner!” It said, a terrifying, toothy grin on its face as it stepped over Ivan and advanced on Alfred. 

Hands shaking, he reached for his pistol, firing off shot after shot into its torso in an absolute panic. The Supermutant staggered, then dropped on top of Ivan board and all. 

“Fuck!” Alfred cursed, running over and rolling the giant monster off of the other man. Ivan groaned, rolling over on his back. 

“Fucking mutie got the drop on me.” He growled. 

“Are you okay!?” Alfred asked in a panic. “Head wounds can be pretty bad.” He said, gently touching the big gash on the side of Ivan's head. 

“I'm fine. But I think we should probably give this place a good once over.” He said. “I don't want any more surprises.” 

Luckily they didn't find any. They did find a huge pile of bodies in the dining room that had yet to be pulled apart and eaten. Alfred suggested that they take them outside and bury them. Ivan argued that that wasn't the job they set out to do. 

“But they deserve a proper burial.” Alfred said, crossing his arms. 

“And they'll get one when the townsfolk in Majestic come up to check the place out. But we'll be here all night if we stay and bury the bodies.” Ivan argued. 

“We're burying them, or I am at least. Help or don't.” Alfred said, putting his foot down and going to grab a shovel. 

“Fine, fine. But if any muties come in while we're doing it, you're taking care of it.” Ivan grumbled.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Like Ivan had warned, it was well past sundown when they finally finished burying the last of the bodies. The only choice they had was to return to the dwindling fire the Supermutants had started in the atrium and feed some of their loose boards to it to keep it going.

“At least we won't freeze.” Alfred said as they bedded down for the night next to gore bags, cradled by the bloody fortifications. 

“It smells like death in here.” Ivan complained. 

“Yeah.” Alfred agreed, sighing. “But it's just for one night.” 

“We wouldn't be here at all if you hadn't insisting on burying all those bodies.” Ivan said. 

“Oh shut up, I'm not going to feel sorry for giving them a proper burial.” Alfred shot back. 

“Fine, but if Supermutants come for us during the night-” 

“Yeah, yeah, it's my fault. I got it.” Alfred scoffed, rolling over. “Goodnight.” He said, pointedly. 

“Goodnight, idiot.” Ivan said, rolling the other way. After a moment of silence, he rolled back over. “But...thank you. For having my back.” He said uncomfortably. 

“No problem, big guy.” Alfred yawned. “Right back atcha.” 

“Yeah.” Ivan said, returning the yawn. “No problem.”

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

They stood at a food stall closer to the outskirts of Majestic, planning their next move. They were each 250 caps richer, and Ivan seemed to be taking this a lot more seriously because of that. Money, it seemed, was quite the motivator in the post-apocalypse.

“We should go to the farthest one first, I think. Get it out of the way.” Alfred said as they waited in line. 

“And where's that?” Ivan asked. 

“The Dallas County Courthouse.” He said, checking his Pip-Boy for the thousandth's time, as if the information would disappear and he had to memorize it. 

“It's not there.” Ivan said quickly.

“How do you know?” Alfred asked, frowning. 

“I just do. The Pip-Boy you saw on the map isn't the one you're looking for, trust me. You don't want to go there.” Ivan said, casting his eyes about as if he were looking for someone. 

“Okaaaay.” Alfred said, highly suspicious now but willing to drop it. “If it's not there, then our choices are the old Heritage Village, and the Dallas Firefighter's Museum. Which would you recommend, since you're such and expert?” 

“The Firefighter's Museum. It's been taken over by a group of raiders calling themselves the Firefighters. I bet we could get a hefty reward for kicking them out of there.” Ivan said, practically drooling over the prospective caps. 

“Alright, but it's your funeral if you bring me along to a Raider killing party.” Alfred said, holding up his hands as if to say 'not my fault'. 

“If we're going to keep going with this, you're going to have to learn how to shoot.” Ivan said, looking dubiously down at the 10mm at Alfred's waist. “Your aim is shit.” 

“No, I hadn't noticed.” Alfred said, rolling his eyes. “It only nearly got me killed.” 

Ivan chuckled, clapping him on the back. “You also panic too easily. That almost got you killed, too.” He said, unapologetic despite Alfred's glare. 

“And what, you're going to teach me?” He asked, deadpan and sarcastic. 

“Of course.” Ivan said, squeezing his shoulder a bit too hard. “Because if you get me killed on one of these ridiculous adventures I will haunt you through this life and the next.” 

“Dude, don't joke about that! Ghosts are serious business, and seriously scary!” Alfred said, going white as a sheet. “I swear to you, the vault was haunted. This one time I was out past curfew and-” Ivan sighed, cutting him off. 

“Alfred, it was a joke. Calm down.” He said, pinching the bridge of his nose and leading Alfred away from the food stall. 

“But I didn't get my-” Alfred started to whine. 

“We don't have time for that.” Ivan said. “You need to learn how to shoot quickly. So we're going to the bar.” 

“The bar?” Alfred asked, incredulous. “Is getting drunk your answer to everything?” 

“Yes, but that's not why we're going.” Ivan said. “We're going to buy a few empty bottles and you're going to shoot them until I tell you to stop.” 

“Then what?” Alfred asked. “Just ask the raiders to stay still while I shoot at them?” 

“I was thinking radroaches, but you can see if that works.” Ivan said, too sweetly to be genuine. 

“Whatever, let's just do this.” He said, not wanting to argue with Ivan when he was clearly right. But, damnit, he had wanted some iguana bits!

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred eyed the bottles warily as Ivan set them up on the table. There was no way that he was going to be able to hit those from the distance Ivan wanted him to. No matter how many times his dad had taken him to some corner of the vault to practice his aim away from prying eyes, he had never seemed to improve. But maybe that's because his dad wasn't exactly a crack shot, either.

“You sure this is going to work?” Alfred asked. 

“It had better. Like I said, I wouldn't take kindly to your lack of skills getting me killed.” Ivan said, stepping back to admire his handiwork before trotting back over to Alfred. “And I've decided that it would be a waste for you to die, too. Doctors are hard to come by out here, after all.” He said, teasing. Or, Alfred thought he was teasing him. 

“Thanks, I think.” He said, unholstering his gun and trying to line up a shot, one eye squeezed shut and his tongue stuck out in concentration. 

Ivan sighed heavily. 

“Stop fucking with me.” He said, rolling his eyes. “I know you're not that bad.” 

Alfred snickered and put his tongue back in his mouth, opening both eyes and taking a shot at the bottle farthest to the left. He missed, of course, managing to hit the bottle three to the right. 

“Did you mean to hit that one?” Ivan asked. 

“If I say yes, will you let me go?” He asked. 

“No.” Ivan said lightly, examining his nails with a smirk. 

“Fine, I meant to hit the one on the left.” He said, grumbling. “I know, I have shit aim. You don't have to tell me again.” 

Ivan chuckled, gesturing for Alfred to come closer. “Here, your stance is shit. Let me show you.” He said, getting behind Alfred and adjusting his limbs. His movements were sharp and clinical as he jerked Alfred into position, his hands oddly cold despite the heat of the day. 

“Hey, man, gentle.” Alfred complained as Ivan tugged at one of his legs. Ivan just stood up, looking at Alfred with one eyebrow raised. He stepped behind Alfred, arms encircling him as his hands came up to cover his, adjusting his grip on the 10mm. 

“Better?” He asked, lips right at Alfred's ear and breath warm on his skin. 

“Yeah.” Alfred breathed out, not sure why his heart was suddenly hammering in his chest. 

“Idiot.” Ivan said fondly, stepping back. “Shoot.” 

Alfred pursed his lips, but did as he was told, eyes trained on the farthest left bottle as he took his shot. This time the bottle shattered as the bullet hit home, thunking into the ground behind the bottle. 

“I did it!” Alfred cried, throwing his arms around Ivan's neck and squeezing. 

“Yes, yes.” Ivan said, laughing as he pried Alfred off of him. “Now do it 8 more times.” Alfred gaped at him, looking dismayed. 

“I really hate you sometimes.” He said, groaning as he tried to get back into the position Ivan had put him in last time. 

“Somehow,” Ivan said, almost as if to himself. “I don't think you do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave a comment if you have any questions!


	5. The Pip-Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, sorry, I know. I've been up to my old tricks again, leaving you guys waiting. I'm still struggling heavily with chapter 7, which is action-heavy, and I'll be honest I'm highly intimidated by the climax I have planned. I should really stick to romance fiction because these plot-heavy, action-ridden stories I've been slowly eking away at since 2011 aren't really my forte. 
> 
> But this has been sitting in my documents folder, more or less finished, for a while now and I might as well post it!
> 
> Anders - Denmark

They spent 3 days in Majestic teaching Alfred to shoot before Ivan was satisfied, moving from bottles to radroaches to more mole rats. He made quick progress, though he was prone to becoming flustered when Ivan came in close to show him something. It was amusing, and a little flattering, but Ivan wasn't here to flirt. He was here to keep the Doctor alive. Still, he couldn't resist whispering in his ear every once in a while, or pressing closer than necessary. 

By the time they headed out, Ivan was confident that Alfred could handle anything the Firefighters could throw at him. Alfred had scrounged up the caps from somewhere to replace his old, beat up shotgun with the combat equivalent. With the armor and the new gun, he almost looked like a professional. It was hard to believe he was practically fresh from the Vault. 

They left Majestic bright and early, the sun chasing away the dew that still gathered on cool mornings as if nothing had changed. It was peaceful, in a way. The sunlight wasn't very strong, and hadn't yet started to beat down on their heads and shoulders yet, but it drove away the slight chill of the morning just fine. 

“Ivan, I know we spent all of this time practicing shooting for a reason, but I still don't feel good about this.” Alfred said, worrying his lip. “Can't we just talk to them? Surely even Raiders buy and sell goods sometimes.”

“Sometimes.” Ivan said with a shrug. “But not to people that just wander into their camp asking.” 

“Still, I don't want to shoot anyone.” He said, sighing heavily. “I'm a-” 

“Doctor.” Ivan cut him off, giving a fond shake of his head and laughing underneath his breath. “I know. You only mention it every five minutes. Now be quiet, you'll attract attention.” Alfred pouted, but didn't say anything after that. 

When they got to the Fire Museum, everything was quiet. The sun hung higher in the sky than before, shining full force down onto the city and heating everything up. It was a still, stale heat. Nothing moved but the grass, stirred by the wind, growing between the cracks in the concrete. Ivan hated quiet. Nowhere in the Wasteland was quiet, not even the towns.

“Be careful. I don't like the look of this.” Ivan said, taking his combat rifle in hand. Alfred nodded and unholstered his 10mm, eyes sharpening as he scanned their surroundings. 

“Maybe this is a good sign? Maybe we can catch them off guard, offer to make a trade or something.” Alfred said. He had been arguing with Ivan the whole way there about how best to deal with the Firefighters. Ivan was adamant that there was no way to do it but with force, while Alfred was equally single-minded in his attempts to not take any lives. 

Ivan just shook his head. “At best they're already dead. At worst, they cleared out and we'll have to track them down.” He said, creeping up to the doorway as Alfred flattened himself against the wall next to it. 

“Only one way to find out.” Alfred said, raising his pistol. “On three?” He asked. Ivan just rolled his eyes and opened the door. 

They busted in, guns up and fingers on the triggers, but there was no one to greet them. The museum was eerily quiet as they stood in the doorway, the smell of smoke and sickness wafting in from somewhere the only clue that life had happened nearby recently. 

“Hello?” Alfred called, earning a glare from Ivan. What did he think he was doing? 

A soft groan from what Ivan had thought was a pile of old bedding was their only answer. Ivan trained his gun on the source of the noise, but before he could shoot Alfred was in the way. He rustled through the blankets, finding a woman wrapped up in them. She looked like death, emaciated and gray-skinned. Her eyes were sunken in, and her hair was a brittle tangle. 

“Water.” She rasped, eyes glassy. She looked through them more than at them, not seeming to realize that there were intruders right in front of her. 

“She's sick.” Alfred said, his hand at her forehead. 

“Thank you, Doctor, for that genius insight.” Ivan scoffed. Alfred didn't respond, pulling the woman's lips up to check her teeth and gums. 

“Shit.” He swore, reaching into his pack and grabbing a bottle of purified water. 

“What are you doing!?” Ivan asked as he coaxed the woman into drinking. 

“If she's sick, it's likely that everyone here is sick. And probably contagious.” Alfred said, taking some dirty water and pouring it onto a cloth, sponging the woman's face off. 

“Which is why we should get out of here.” Ivan said, suddenly nervous. He couldn't afford to get sick like that, even with a doctor on hand. 

“Not until I find out how bad it is. These people could start an epidemic if we're not careful. If we leave here carrying germs back to the general population, it could be a disaster.” Alfred said. “I have to know more before we can go. And besides, this makes things a hell of a lot easier.” 

“How do you mean?” Ivan asked, looking disdainfully down at the sick woman. 

“Like I've been saying all along, we offer a trade. A doctor for a Pip-Boy.” He said. “I just need to find out who's in charge here.” He said, laying the woman back down gently and rising from where he'd been crouched beside her. 

“Alfred, this is insane! If even one raider has the strength to hold a gun-” Ivan cut himself off, seeing that Alfred was clearly ignoring him as he set off purposefully through the museum. Ivan groaned and followed him, knowing that there was no talking to the stubborn man. 

When they got to what looked like the main living area for the Firefighters, what they found shocked Ivan. It was like a makeshift field hospital, with the few raiders still strong enough to stand limping between the rows of mattresses to care for their fellows. Old, young, everyone seemed piled here in the middle of the museum. Even the children hadn't been spared, and more than a few lay groaning on little cots. The whole room smelled like vomit and shit, and the fire and smoke only made it stuffy and acrid on top of it all. 

Alfred gingerly picked his way over to one of the ones caring for the sickly, his arms up in a gesture of surrender. 

“Excuse me.” He said, getting their attention. One fumbled for his gun, but another put her hand up to stop him. “I'm a Doctor.” They started to whisper between themselves, eyeing Alfred speculatively. “I need to talk to your leader, can you take me to them?” 

“How do we know you're telling the truth.” The man who had tried to draw his gun asked, his voice raspy and tired, his eyes sunken in and drooping half-closed. 

Alfred didn't seem to have an answer, casting his eyes about the room as if something there could help him. Ivan rolled his eyes and spoke up. “If we were here to kill you, you made it pretty easy for us. But we haven't even tried.” 

“We're just here to help, I promise.” Alfred said. “I really am a doctor. I work in Can Town with Dr. Adnan.” 

“I know that name.” Said the woman. “He patched me up once after a bar fight.” She eyed the two of them shrewdly, then looked around the room crowded with the sick. 

“Come with me.” She said, gesturing for them to follow as she led them towards the back. 

“Anders is very sick. Don't waste his time.” She growled as she led them to a back room where the leader of the Firefighters lay, coughing wetly, on an actual bed as opposed to the dirty, frameless mattresses everyone else had. He was older, his blonde hair ashen from the gray in it, his face lined with scars and wrinkles. Still, even sick, he looked formidable. “Sir, there's a doctor here. He says he wants to help.” 

“Bullshit there is.” He groaned.

“He works with Dr. Adnan.” She said, as if that meant something. And apparently it did because Anders actually tried to sit up then, managing to prop himself up and look Alfred in the eyes. A lopsided grin split his features as he took him in. 

“Holy shit, you're Arthur's.” He laughed, and Alfred was taken aback. 

“You knew my grandfather?” He asked, obviously curious but with a pained, pinched look on his face that he got every time he talked about the old man. Ivan still didn't really know what the deal was there, only that he was dead and Alfred was sad about it.

“I sure did, kid. But that's a conversation for another time. You say you're a doctor?” He asked, his eyes narrowing as he looked him up and down. 

“I wasn't lying when I said I worked with Dr. Adnan.” He said, giving Anders one of his easy, lopsided smiles. 

“Then you can treat my people.” He said, more a command than a request. “We have children here, and elderly.” 

“I saw that.” He said, his eyes softening. “I'll do what I can.” He promised. “Let's start with you.” He pressed the back of his hand to the old man's forehead. 

“Well you definitely have a fever.” He said, grabbing Anders' face and pulling his lower eyelids down to check inside. He looked at his throat, shining the light from his Pip-Boy into his mouth. He looked inside of his ears as best he could, and checked his pulse. 

He worked calmly and confidently, his hands and voice sure and steady as he checked the old man over and asked questions about his condition. Ivan was impressed, and watched intently as Alfred did his job. He was good at it, that much was obvious.

“And when did it start?” He asked, having produced a small notebook from his bag, scribbling down notes in it. 

“About a week ago, the kids and old people started to get sick. Then it was like everyone was sick at once.” Anders said, coughing. 

“Well, I have good news.” Alfred said. “I'm pretty sure it's just a pretty nasty strain of the flu. Which means that with some rest and clean water, most if not all of you will be fine.” 

“That's going to be a problem.” Anders said, frowning. 

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked. 

“We don't have enough clean water to go around. We had a purifier, but it broke down last month.” He said. “All we have is our back supply, and that's almost out. We've been saving it for the kids, mostly.” 

“Shit.” Alfred said under his breath. “Dirty water is just going to make you more sick, you have to know that. It's not just irradiated, it could be full of parasites and bacteria!”

“Don't you think I know that?” Anders snapped. “What can we do? We don't know anyone who can fix it. The guy who was maintaining it drank himself to death a few years ago, that's why it broke down in the first place.” Anders looked at him hard, eyes drilling into his. “So what exactly do you propose we do, Doc?” 

Alfred bit his lip and looked to Ivan as if he could tell him what to do. Those soft, kind blue eyes searched his own like he knew Ivan could do something. And he could, he just didn't want to. These were Raiders, scum, people who lived by taking from others. In his opinion, they should all roll over and die, and this was the perfect opportunity. 

But there were kids here, and Alfred was looking at him so pleadingly. 

“I can fix it.” He sighed, regretting saying it even as the words left his mouth. But the way Alfred lit up was almost worth it. Almost. 

“Ivan, that's amazing!” Alfred said, launching himself at the taller man and wrapping him up in a bear hug. “You're a total hero, dude!” 

Ivan's cheeks warmed as he patted Alfred's back awkwardly. No one had ever called him that before. “Well...just make sure I don't regret it.” He said, pulling out of Alfred's embrace quickly. “You,” He said, addressing the woman that had brought them to Anders, “Show me where the purifier is.” 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“So,” Alfred asked as he ran a wet cloth over Ander's forehead, “How did you know my grandfather?”

“It was a long time ago.” Anders said wistfully. “We were both a lot younger then, about your age I think. We were all guards with one of the caravans: me, Arthur, and Sadiq. We all used to run together, back in our wild youth.” He chuckled, reliving old memories. 

“So what happened?” Alfred asked. “I know Sadiq left to go with the Brotherhood, and my grandpa met my grandma and had to go back to the vault. But what's your story?” 

“I went back home and took up the family business.” He said, sweeping his hand across the room. “You see, we Firefighters have been here for a long time. We moved in a few generations ago, when my great grandfather was running the operation. He found this hall of forgotten warriors, with their axes and battle trucks. He figured they had to be the best raiders of their time. They drove around in the big red trucks just daring anyone to mess with them.” He said, chuckling. “It must have been great.” 

Alfred raised an eyebrow, confused. “That's not...that's not what firefighters did?” He said, intoning it like a question out of sheer confusion. How did anyone reach that conclusion? It was in the name. 

“Sure it was, kid. It's in the name. They fought with fire.” Anders said, confident for a man who was wrong. “That's why we use flamethrowers.” 

“But...” Alfred started, stopping because he wasn't even sure where _to_ start. 

“Trust me, kid, I know my history. I've lived in this museum since I was born. And my parents before me, and their parents before them. I grew up with stories of how the firefighters of old would terrorize the streets of Dallas with their ferocious attack dalmatians. I know what I'm talking about.” Anders scoffed. 

“Firefighters fought fires!” He cried, unable to contain it anymore. “They were public servants, not raiders! There weren't any raiders Pre-War, they didn't need them. I grew up thinking that the war never happened, and I had real history classes, so I think I know more about it than you!” 

“Well then.” Anders said, huffing. “Forgive me, Mr. Vault-Boy. I didn't know that being a human science experiment made you an expert.”

Alfred grit his teeth, willing his temper to go down. “That was uncalled for.” He said, eyeing Anders like he wanted to strangle him. And he did. But he wouldn't. Because he was a good doctor, dammit, and this man was not going to get the better of him. “And I'm telling you the truth. Have you ever looked at the hoses on the trucks? They're for putting fires out.” 

“I just assumed they were for hitting people from a distance, or tying them to the truck to be dragged.” Anders said, as if that wasn't the most horrifying thing Alfred had ever heard. 

“What!? No! That's absolutely barbaric!” Alfred cried. “They helped people. They were heroes. They ran into burning buildings, and rescued kittens from trees. And most of them were volunteers, too, so they didn't even get paid for it. They were just good people who wanted to do good for their communities.” Alfred said, wistful for a better time when people helped each other and had the security they needed to be good neighbors. 

He missed the vault. 

“But I don't get it. Why go around helping people for free?” Anders asked. 

“Because someone has to do it, and it's the right thing?” Alfred said. “Like helping you out. Me and Ivan, we don't need to do this. We probably shouldn't, because objectively speaking you do more harm than good. But I'm a doctor, and I took an oath. And Ivan, I suspect, is just a good person.” 

Anders looked lost in thought for a moment, staring down at his hands. “More harm than good, huh?” He huffed. “What's it matter, anyway? This isn't some pretty Pre-War paradise. And who would wast water putting out a fire?” He scoffed. 

“I would, if it was someone's house.” Alfred said honestly. 

“Yeah, well not all of us are good people, kid.” He said, looking up at a half-burnt portrait of a long-dead Pre-War fire chief. “And we just gotta live with that.” 

Alfred looked up at the picture of the stern man holding his hat under his arm. He wondered what he would think about the people who had taken residence in the museum. 

“Do we though?” He asked, too quietly to be heard. 

“What did you say, boy?” Anders asked, eyeing him suspiciously. 

“I said, do we, though? Do we have to just sit back and accept the way things are? Do we just label people good or bad and close the case on it like there's nothing to be done?” Alfred asked, brow furrowed as he thought of the family that was driven out of Majestic. “What if I can't accept that? What if I want better than 'just the way it is'? My grandpa did. He saw what was happening in the vault and he did something about it.” 

“And where did that get him?” Anders asked. “You talk about him in the past tense, and Arthur was too stubborn to up and die of old age. So tell me, where did all that conviction get him?” 

“Dead, but I bet he'd do it all over again given the chance.” Alfred said, angry now. Angry at the Overseer, angry at Dr. Edelstein, angry at Anders and his raiders and everyone in the NTW who didn't think about their fellow human beings before acting. “And you know what, I would, too.” He said, surprised that he meant it. “I wouldn't trade knowing I tried to do the right thing for anything, even being at home safe in the vault.” 

“Tried? So you didn't even succeed.” Anders said. Alfred refused to be cowed.

“No, I guess I didn't. I didn't blow the top of all of Vault 50's secrets and free the dwellers from the Overseer's influence. I couldn't even save my dad. But I did my best and, dammit, I'm going to keep doing my best. Even if that means treating raiders who are just going to turn around and hurt more people. Because that's what I do. I help people. I make them better.” He said, eyes fierce and wild as they bored into Anders'.

“Kid, the Wasteland is going to chew you up and spit you back out.” Anders chuckled, shaking his head. 

“We'll just see about that.” Alfred said, his gaze unwavering. Anders looked him up and down, studying him. Suddenly, a grin broke out across his face. 

“Yeah, kid. I guess we will.” He said, laying back on his pillows and closing his eyes. “I guess we will.”

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Ivan cursed himself and his big mouth as he put the finishing touches on the water purifier. How had Alfred swayed him so easily? He'd just batted those baby blues at him and, what? He'd gone running off like he was the boy's dog, doing his master's bidding. 

He had been too lenient with Alfred, too quick to let him have his way. He'd cleared out a supermutant infested vault because he wanted information on a wild goose chase, and now here he was. Fixing this damned thing for a bunch of raiders because Alfred thought it was the right thing to do. 

Alfred, who was too quick to jump to the defense of others. Alfred, who drove him crazy with his recklessness and seeming inability to kill. Alfred, who took pity on raiders. What was it about Alfred that had him so intrigued? 

As he walked back into Anders' room to see Alfred smiling softly and pulling the blanket up over the old man, he stopped short. He looked like some kind of saint in the soft, low light of the museum. Perched among the wretched like an angel, laying healing hands on the sick whether they deserved it or not. Maybe this is what drew Ivan to him? His kind heart? His compassion? But no, that wasn't all of it. 

“Be quiet, he's sleeping.” Alfred whispered, looking up at Ivan. “They'll all need all the rest they can get.” 

“So can we leave now?” Ivan asked. Alfred shook his head and he groaned softly in response. “Why not?” 

“Someone needs to take care of these people, and I'm the only doctor on hand. Plus, we still don't know if they have the Pip-Boy.” Alfred said. “I need to see this through.” 

Maybe his conviction? It would explain why he was so ready to follow him into certain danger despite there being almost nothing in it for him other than a few extra caps. But still, it wasn't the whole picture of why Alfred was quickly becoming someone he wanted to know more about, to be closer to. 

“Fine, whatever. But don't expect me to play nurse.” He grumbled, hoping Alfred wouldn't push the matter. He would probably give in and help if he asked nicely enough. It was beginning to piss Ivan off. 

“I won't, big guy. Just stand in the corner and look pretty. I'll do all the nursing.” Alfred promised, clapping him on the shoulder. “You've already done so much.” He said sincerely, looking up at him with those soft, kind eyes again. “I can't thank you enough for fixing that purifier. I know you didn't want to, and you didn't have to. You could have not said anything, but you did. Thank you.” 

Ivan looked away, embarassed. “Well...don't expect this kind of charity everywhere we go.” He said, unable to look Alfred in the eyes. His eyes were the problem, he decided. Those eyes would be his downfall. 

“Still, thanks.” Alfred said, and Ivan could practically hear the warm smile in his voice. 

“You're welcome, then. Just, don't mention it. Literally.” Ivan said, wincing. He didn't want to be known as someone who went around helping people. It wasn't good for his reputation. 

“Mum's the word.” Alfred promised, miming zipping up his lips. Which just caused Ivan to focus a little too hard on his mouth which just felt strange. 

What was happening to him? 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred stayed up half the night with his patients. He had the ones who were still well enough help him sponge everyone mostly clean of the vomit and other fluids, and clean up the rest as best as they could. The water purifier, thanks to Ivan, had plenty of water coming out soon enough. All in all, he was satisfied with what he had to work with given the circumstances. 

It took another 2 days for most of the firefighters to start recovering. In that time, Alfred hardly saw Ivan. He supposed he couldn't blame him, not wanting to be around sick people, but he found himself missing his presence. He chalked it up to Ivan now being the most familiar presence above ground besides Sadiq and left it alone, having too much work to do to dwell. 

He enjoyed the work, as dirty as it was, and he liked knowing that he could take it all on his own. Dr. Edelstein had always held him back, and while Sadiq didn't hold his hand he was always there as back up. Knowing he could take care of this many people on his own? It was a big confidence boost. Even if it was just the flu. 

But eventually, enough people were well enough that his services were no longer needed. 

“Is there any way we can repay you?” Anders asked, looking a lot better since the first time Alfred had laid eyes on him. He was still thin and wan-looking, but there was more color in his skin and his eyes weren't so sunken anymore. 

Alfred chewed on his lip, not sure how to ask. “Actually, there is one thing. The thing we came here for in the first place. There's a special Pip-Boy, a West-Tek model, that has some information on it that I'm looking for. The scanners in Vault 49 said it might be here.” 

Anders thought for a moment, hand on his chin. “Actually, yeah. We did have an old West-Tek Pip-Boy. But we sold it to a junk dealer...oh, maybe 2-3 days before you got here?” 

Alfred almost choked. 3 days!? That's how long they had stayed in Majestic. If Ivan hadn't made him stay and practice his shooting, they could have had it by now!? 

He took a deep breath and tried to calm down. It wasn't Ivan's fault, he was only doing what was sensible. It had made sense at the time to train him, they thought they were going into a gun fight. But damn, if it didn't sting. 

“Who did you sell it to, specifically. I need to know.” He said. “That Pip-Boy could save lives, Anders. Thousands of lives, more.” 

“Wow, that's heavy.” Anders said, turning pale. “And if you don't find it?” He asked. 

“I don't know.” Alfred said, honestly. “It's kind of a long shot that I tracked it this far. But I don't intend to stop now. That's why I need you to tell me where you sold it.” 

“That junk dealer at 508 park. The fancy one that always has plenty of Pre-War tech laying around.” Anders said. “He's the only one we knew who would take it. I mean, Pip-Boys are useful, but not useful enough to waste caps on.” 

“This one is.” Alfred said, his mouth set in a grim line. He had to get to that Pip-Boy, no matter what it took. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Ivan was finally glad to be free of the stench of sickness and the general presence of the Raiders as the left the museum. But the grim look of determination on Alfred's face worried him. He'd never seen the man so serious, and it didn't suit him. 

“Alfred, is something wrong?” He asked. Alfred shook his head absently, eyes scanning the ruins of the city. 

“It's nothing. Just...disappointed.” He said. 

“Well we know where the thing is now, at least. We'll just go and get it and then it's on to West-Tek.” Ivan assured him. 

“What if we don't have the caps?” Alfred asked, chewing on his lip. 

“We'll just steal it if we have to.” Ivan said.

“Ivan.” Alfred cried, scandalized but finally smiling again. “You shouldn't joke like that.” 

“Who said I was joking?” He asked slyly. 

“Ivan!” Alfred laughed, then, and something in Ivan relaxed and blossomed into a content warmth in his chest. 

“Don't worry, Alik. We will find this Pip-Boy and get you into West-Tek.” Ivan said, bumping him with his shoulder and exchanging small, shy smiles with him. “You'll see.” 

“Thanks, Ivan.” Alfred said, his eyes shining with something that made the warmth in Ivan's chest grow. “You've been so great about all of this and I just...thank you.”

“You're welcome.” Ivan said softly, not knowing how else to respond. He felt suddenly uncomfortable, laid open and vulnerable in a way he didn't like. And he thought, maybe, it was tied in with the overwhelming urge to kiss Alfred in that moment.

He pulled back reluctantly from his orbit, knowing he had been drifting closer and closer to a collision. “Come, Alfred. We have quite a ways to go.” He said, turning his back and refusing to look at the other man. 

 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred's head was reeling as Ivan pulled away. It had looked for all the world like Ivan was going to kiss him and then he just...hadn't. Did he not want to kiss Alfred? Did Alfred even want to be kissed? 

It was one thing to get a shiver up his spine when Ivan pressed close to him, front molded to his back, hands on his as he adjusted his grip on the gun. It was another for his heart to be hammering out of his chest right now because it looked like maybe Ivan might kiss him. 

He followed behind Ivan silently as they walked, letting him take the lead for once. His Pip-Boy had been leading them since they left Majestic, but he had things to think about. First and foremost in his mind right now being the man in front of him. 

Why was he responding like that to Ivan in the first place? Sure, he was really ridiculously attractive, but it was becoming apparent that it was more than just that. He saw something in Ivan, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what. In the museum, when Ivan had offered to fix the purifier, and again when he'd gone out of his way to cheer him up, something in him had called out to Alfred.

When they had started all of this, Alfred thought he was some kind of sociopath or at least someone who didn't care very much for other people. But it was clear to Alfred now that he cared, it had just been buried by how hard life had been for him. He might even care too much, like Alfred did sometimes, only Ivan was better at hiding his need to fix things and make it all better. 

And he had come with him on this wild goose chase, grasping at the shadows of a fairy tale until they made it real. He wouldn't have gotten this far without Ivan, he wouldn't have even gotten out of Can Town. He'd been with him every step of the way since he'd set out on this strange, crazy journey and it didn't look like he'd be leaving his side any time soon. The thought was weirdly comforting. 

So yeah, maybe he did want Ivan to kiss him. And wasn't that a strange thought? 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

They heard 508 Park before they saw it, the murmur of voices from a large gathered crowd unmistakable. They crept up behind an adjacent building to get a better look without being seen, Alfred poking his head around the corner surreptitiously.

“It looks like some kind of fancy party.” He said, squinting at a makeshift banner that had been hung on the outside of the building. “Annual Auction and Gala.” He read off of the banner, frowning. “Auction?” He said quietly to himself. “We have to get in there.”

“Alfred, there's no way we have the money to win that Pip-Boy at auction. Not up against these people.” He said, gesturing at the well-heeled crowd. All of them wore Pre-War clothing in different stages of decay. Some had obviously been through the ringer, torn off bodies and dug out of broken wardrobes. But plenty of others were in perfect or near-perfect condition. A few were even clean and washed, the ultimate sign of wealth in the Wasteland. 

Alfred chewed his lip, warring with himself in his mind. He needed that Pip-Boy, more than he'd ever needed anything. His whole life had been leading up to this moment in a lot of ways, and he couldn't let it slip through his hands. It was real now, real in a way it had never been before. This wasn't some childhood dream of seeing Matt being able to run and play with the other kids, it wasn't a pipe dream that everyone thought he was crazy for, it was real. And he needed it like he needed air. To hold it in his hands, and see it with his own eyes, to know for himself. 

“Look, Alfred. Let's just watch the auction and see who comes out with the Pip-Boy. We'll tell them what you need it for and offer to buy it off of them. That way we can at least take the time to collect the caps we need.” Ivan said, laying a hand on his shoulder. 

“I can't take that chance, Ivan. I can't let it slip away from me again. What if they don't want to sell? What if they want to use it for something bad? Remember, West-Tek is responsible for FEV, too. Those facilities are as dangerous as they could be life-saving.” Alfred told him, studying the crowd intensely as the gears turned in his head. Ivan was right, there was no way they could compete financially with the kind of people showing up at the auction. But maybe...

“Were you serious?” He finally asked, turning those intense eyes on Ivan. 

“What do you mean?” Ivan asked. 

“When you said we could steal it. Were you serious? Would you go with me if I went?” He asked. Ivan looked taken aback, but after a moment, he nodded. 

“Believe it or not, this wouldn't be the first time.” He said, grinning mischievously. Alfred grinned back, a fire in his eyes now. 

“Come with me, I have a plan.” He said. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

The plan turned out to be leaving Tony across the street and sneaking around the back to see if there was another entrance. Good news, there was. Bad news, it seemed that the junk dealer had hired staff for the occasion who were using the back door to get in and out. 

Better news, Ivan managed to corner two of them and knock their heads together. 

They stripped the two men and quickly changed into their clothes. Ivan's were more than a little tight on him, stretching against his broad chest and thick thighs and riding up his long legs. 

“No one will notice.” Alfred said, wincing even as he said it. 

“I look ridiculous.” Ivan complained. 

“Look, you're a big guy. No one will question that they couldn't find a uniform big enough for you.” Alfred assured him. “Now let's get in there.” He said, grabbing a tray of iguana on a stick. “Grab those glasses of wine and come with me.” 

Inside, the party was in full swing. He'd never seen a place so clean or well-restored. The floors were free of cracks and debris, the wallpaper stayed on the walls where it belonged, and everyone milling about looked about as glamorous as you could get in the post-apocalypse. 

“Swanky digs, huh?” Alfred asked, whistling lowly. 

“Yes, the man who runs the place has a reputation for quality goods no one else can get. Including your Pip-Boy.” Ivan said, reminding him why they were really there. 

“Right. Split up and try and find out where they're keeping the stock.” Alfred whispered, putting on a brilliant smile and melting into the crowd before Ivan had a chance to object. He sighed and scanned the crowd, trying to balance the plate of wine glasses in one hand as he wended his way through the pressing mass of people. 

There was an interesting mix here, to say the least. Caravan heads in dirty road wear brushed elbows with brahmin lords dressed to the nines. But the strangest thing he'd seen yet was an old man with an eye patch over one eye. He knew for a fact that he used to be a Brotherhood Paladin. And the one over there with the crew cut, he had an Enclave insignia on his arm band. 

Interesting. 

Ivan tried to find Alfred in the crowd, quickly passing the wine off to people as he went. When he finally found him, he grabbed his arm and pulled him close to whisper in his ear. 

“On my signal, make your way to the stairwell.” He said, letting him go. 

“How will I know what the signal is?” He asked, frowning. Ivan just smiled. 

“You'll know.” He said, melting back into the crowd. 

He reemerged behind the gentleman with the eyepatch, pretending to trip and sending him sprawling into the Enclave officer and forcing him to spill his drink all over the man. 

“You son of a bitch!” The Enclave man hissed, wiping frantically at the wine stain quickly seeping into his clothing. 

“Serves you right, fascist bastard.” The former Brotherhood paladin growled. 

And right on cue, the Enclave lackie throws the first punch. 

The party is thrown into disarray as the two groups come together, smashing chairs and throwing each other across the room. Ivan's eyes find Alfred's across the room as people begin to flee, and Alfred gives him a wide grin and a thumbs up as they both make their way to the staircase. 

“Wow, that was some signal.” Alfred laughed as they came together. 

“I told you you would know.” Ivan smirked. “Come on, there's nowhere downstairs to keep the items, so they may be up here.” 

They heard the low murmur of voices, and shadows moved at the top of the stairs. They stopped, holding their breath as they watched for anyone coming down. But the shadows moved farther along the hall before disappearing. They let out a held breath and crept silently up the stairs, careful to not let the old wood creak beneath their feet. 

Alfred went first, crouched low as he snuck down the hallway to the first door, labeled storage. He could hear voices from inside and he stopped, pressing his ear to the crack to listen. 

“I told you, it's not in here! It's in my office.” A panicked male voice came from inside. “My head of security has the key to the safe. Please, it's not in here.” 

“Liar! You've been stalling me all week.” A female voice replied. It sounded familiar, but for the life of him he couldn't place it. Ivan came up behind him, a questioning look on his face as if to ask him why he had stopped. Alfred just held a finger up to his lips. 

“I assure you, I haven't been stalling! The sellers, they were late! And then the auction, things just got away from me-” The male voice was cut off mid-rant. 

“I need that Pip-Boy.” The woman growled. “The Enclave needs that Pip-Boy.” 

“Just let me get my head of security. He has the keys to the safe, I promise you.” He begged. The room was silent for a moment. 

“You. Go get this head of security.” The woman said sharply. Alfred gasped and backpedaled away from the door, grabbing Ivan's hand and pulling him into the door across the hallway only a moment before the door to the storage room opened up. 

Looking around, Alfred quickly realized they were in the office and had to suppress a whoop of delight. “Quick, Ivan, help me find the safe.” He whispered, looking under the desk and behind the filing cabinet. 

“Here!” Ivan said, pushing aside an old, half-burnt painting to reveal a wall safe. 

“Let's see if I can open it from the terminal.” Alfred said, sitting down at the desk and accessing the computer only to find that it was unlocked and contained nothing important. Sighing, he realized he'd have to pick the lock. Only, it was going to be a lot harder than picking the lock on Dr. Edelstein's desk. 

“Do you have any bobby pins?” He asked Ivan, relieved when he dug a box out of his pocket and passed him two. He bent one open and used his teeth to remove the rubber and bent it into shape to lift the latches. The other one was kept closed and bent to turn the lock. 

He went to work, listening intently as Ivan watched at the door. Ivan tried to talk but he shushed him, wishing for all the world that he'd managed to run away with his stethoscope. 

“But Alfred-” He whispered, Alfred cut him off again. 

“Ivan, I can't hear the pins click!” He whispered back. 

“But Alfred, someone's coming.” He said, grabbing his rifle. 

“Shit.” Alfred cursed, trying to work faster without losing the pins he'd already gotten in place as he heard footsteps on the stairs. He started to sweat as he fiddled with the last pin, which seemed to be a tricky one. 

It clicked into place just as the footsteps stopped at the door, and Alfred froze in place, afraid to turn the lock. Time stood still as the owners of the footsteps talked lowly outside of the door before finally disappearing into the storage room. 

Alfred let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and turned the pins in the lock, yanking the safe door open to find the Pip-Boy sitting inside alongside a few gold bricks and a stash of caps. Grabbing the Pip-Boy and shutting the safe before Ivan could see what else was in there, he put the painting back and jerked his head towards the door. 

They were halfway down the stairs when he heard the door to the storage room open and the man from before exit, pleading for his life as he was dragged across the hall. 

“Open it!” The woman's voice came. “And if it's not in there, shoot him.” 

Alfred had stopped without realizing it, but Ivan's incessant tugging at his wrist caught his attention and he ran silently down the stairs after him. Still, he could hear the man insist as they left. 

“It was here! Someone must have stolen it! It was here!” He sobbed. 

The last thing Alfred heard from upstairs as they melted back into the still brawling crowd was a single gunshot ringing out over the cacophony. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Later, when he was lying awake in Majestic with the Pip-Boy on the bed next to him and the gunshot replaying over and over in his head as his imagination ran wild imagining the man's last moments, he thought back to the woman. The familiarity of her voice nagged at him as he struggled to place it. Then, suddenly, it clicked into place. 

The Enclave pin he had found right after meeting her. 

She had left for 508 Park, the Enclave had been there. 

She hated Ghouls so much it made him uncomfortable before he even knew what it meant. 

The realization that Margeaux was with the Enclave choked him, filling his throat with rage and fear and a sense of betrayal that threatened to claw its way out. He buried his face in his pillow and screamed, letting the fabric and stuffing absorb the noise as he let it all out. Tony nosed at his arm soothingly, licking the skin there and whimpering. 

He looked down at the dog and choked back a sob, scooching over enough to let him jump up into the bed with him. He wrapped his arms around Tony's neck and buried his face in his fur. “It's gonna be okay, Tony. I'm sorry I upset you.” He said soft, scratching between the dog's ears. 

He still couldn't believe what he had heard. That Margeaux was Enclave, that she had just ordered that man to be shot in cold blood, that she was after the Pip-Boy.

That the Enclave was after the Pip-Boy. 

He stared down at it, wondering if it was even worth it anymore. He'd just assumed that with the right equipment that he could cure dFEV, but he didn't really know that. It was just the last thing he had to hold onto after he'd lost his entire world. He didn't even know that the facilities inside of West-Tek had what he needed. He'd just assumed again, because they created it in the first place. Really, he didn't know anything about the stupid “quest” he was on. All he knew was that the Enclave wanted it, probably for less savory reasons than his.

Thinking about Antonio, and the men who had harassed him, and the malice in Margeaux's voice when she'd spoken about Ghouls, Alfred made a decision. If the Enclave wanted it, that was a good enough reason to keep it as far away from them as possible. 

He took off his own Pip-Boy and replaced it with the West-Tek model, turning it on and waiting for it to boot up. When it finally did, he groaned and pulled it off his arm, tossing it back onto the bed. It was encrypted! Of course it was. And he'd never even tried working on a Pip-Boy. They were a whole other ball game to hacking a terminal. 

Still, if he had it, they didn't. He could find someone to break the encryption for him, all he had to do was ask around. In the meantime, though, it was probably time to be heading home. He missed Erika, and Harper, and Sadiq. Ivan was surprisingly great company, but he missed people. 

He drifted off, dreaming of Vash's molerat chunks and Margeaux bleeding through her teeth as she smiled at him kindly over the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O no! Margeaux! How many of you actually fell for this twist? I didn't hide it very well, I'm afraid.


	6. Heritage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The theme for this chapter is family. Alfred finds his, and we start to unravel what the deal is with Ivan's
> 
> Content Warning: A few dogs die in this chapter. Not Tony, and the deaths aren't graphic. But it happens.

Ivan woke up the next morning to find Alfred perched at the end of his bed waiting for him, restless bags beneath his eyes and a drawn, tired look on his wan face. 

“What's wrong?” He asked, sitting up immediately. 

“It was Margeaux.” He said hoarsely. 

“What?” He asked, confused. 

“The woman from last night, the one with the Enclave. I recognized her voice, but I didn't realize why until late. It was Margeaux.” He said, staring through the wall. 

“Are you sure?” Ivan asked softly. 

“I'm sure.” Alfred snapped, his eyes glassy and hard when they finally looked at Ivan. “I'm sure.” He repeated, shoulders slumping. 

“Fuck.” Ivan said, flopping back into the bed. “Did she see us?” He asked. 

“I don't know. I think we should take the long way around going back to Can Town, just in case.” Alfred said, wringing his hands. “Don't follow the road, don't hit any settlements on the way there. It'll be rough, but I think it's necessary.” 

Ivan agreed. There was no use in making themselves an Enclave target by taking the road most traveled. “You're right, we should go through the ruins. Make sure to take back alleys and ways that most others wouldn't.” 

“We should leave now. The sun only just rose, and almost everyone here is asleep. Fewer people to see us leave.” Alfred suggested. 

“Good idea.” Ivan said, nudging Alfred off of the bed with his foot so he could get up. “Did you find anything on the Pip-Boy?” He asked as he dressed. 

“Encrypted.” Alfred said, frowning. “But we'll get that taken care of. Hopefully.” 

Ivan winced internally but said nothing. “People who can do that are few and far between.” He said carefully. 

“We've come this far. No good reason to stop now.” Alfred said, mouth set in a thin line. “Speaking of which, I need to pay you for the week.” He said, digging into his caps. Ivan watched him as he did so, something strange settling in his gut. 

Suddenly it didn't feel right, taking money from Alfred. There was something to what he had said before. They had come this far together and there was no good reason to stop now. Even if Alfred stopped paying him to tag along. He thought back to when he had almost kissed Alfred, and about how much simpler doing that would be if they didn't have caps hanging between them. 

“Keep them.” He said, surprising himself. “I've made more money with you, clearing out radroaches and supermutants, than I did working with the caravan. That's pay enough.” He said, which wasn't strictly a lie. 

“But, Ivan. I'm paying you to be here. It wouldn't be fair to ask you to keep traveling with me without paying you. Especially since the Enclave has gotten involved. Margeaux might be chasing us, things are getting dangerous now.” Alfred said. “Is that was this is? Are you leaving?” He asked, looking panicked. 

“No!” Ivan assured him quickly. “No, I just...I want to be here. I want to travel with you, see this through. I want to get you into West-Tek and help bring medicine back to the Wasteland.” Ivan said, leaving _I want to stay with you_ unspoken. “I don't need money for that. Taking it feels wrong. Because I'd like to think we're...friends, now.” He finished lamely, not wanting to say what it was he thought they were or were becoming. 

The grin that snuck across Alfred's face, slowly lighting him up from top to bottom, was worth it though. He looked beautiful like that, shining and golden in the early morning sunlight, the smile making his blue eyes sparkle. For the second time in as many days, he had to resist the urge to kiss him. 

“Really? I mean, yeah, I thought we were getting pretty friendly too, but I didn't want to say anything. You know?” He stammered, blushing and smiling. It was good, to see him so cheered up from how he had been when Ivan had first woken up to his sad face. 

“Come on, friend.” Ivan teased lightly, shouldering his pack and his gun. “We need to head out.” 

“Roger that!” Alfred said brightly, giving a jaunty salute and grabbing his own things. “Ready when you are, buddy.” 

“Then let's get going, pal.” Ivan said, unable to resist as Alfred snickered behind his hand. He knew they were being ridiculous, and he knew this was a grave situation that required seriousness. But it all seemed so far away when Alfred smiled. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

They slept rough the first night, taking turns keeping watch and refusing to light a fire in case it drew too much attention. The buildings were thinning out as they got farther away from Downtown and it was easier to see fires from a distance without them. 

Alfred had taken first watch, unable to sleep with the burning shame of having trusted and befriended someone who so clearly didn't deserve it still churning in his stomach every time he stopped to think about it for even a second. He hadn't known Margeaux for long, but he had thought he felt a kinship with her, a fellow vault dweller cast out into the harsh wastes. Now he couldn't help but think back on all her moments of kindness and wonder if there was some ulterior motive. 

Not for the first time, he missed the simplicity of the vault. He had known, or had thought he had known, right from wrong there. Take your pills, do your job, be kind to your neighbors. But out here? It was entirely different when death lurked around every corner, he guessed. 

In a way, he understood her and why she was doing the things she did. She was hurting, and probably scared. He could still remember his first day out of the vault and the feral that had attacked him, how scared he was and how sure he was that he was going to die. He couldn't imagine your whole vault being overrun with those things. One minute you're safe underground and the next...

Still, ferals and Ghouls weren't the same thing. And from what he'd gathered, the Enclave wanted to get rid of both of them. Which was completely unacceptable and bigoted. No matter what, no matter how kind to him she'd been or how tragic her backstory was or how much he understood, Margeaux could not be allowed to succeed. 

He looked down at the Pip-Boy in his lap and sighed. Maybe it was for the best that it was encrypted. Maybe he could just hide it somewhere she could never find it and forget all about curing dFEV and accessing West-Tek. Maybe-

He was cut off mid-thought by the most disturbing sound he'd ever heard. It was like sandpaper-coated steel grinding together, long and loud. A crashing in the bushes alerted him and he ran to Ivan, shaking him awake. 

“We have company.” He said, training his gun on the source of the noise. Ivan rose to meet him, awake in an instant. 

A Ghoul came running out, screaming for their life with their burnt-out vocal cords. That was the sound Alfred had heard, the Ghoul had been screaming bloody murder as it was chased by three wild dogs that came running out after them. 

“Help me!” The Ghoul cried, his voice Italian-accented and high-pitched for a Ghoul. “Please, help!” 

“Duck down!” Ivan called, raising his rifle and shooting each of the dogs in turn. One shot, one kill. Alfred marveled at his precision, wishing he could do something even half that cool with a gun. 

The Ghoul came stumbling over to them, clinging to Ivan like a scared child as they cried. “Thank you! Oh, thank you. You saved my life.” He sobbed. 

“Feliciano, what are you doing here?” Ivan asked, catching Alfred off-guard. Ivan knew him? 

“Ivan! What a surprise. I didn't expect to see you out here.” The Ghoul said cheerfully. “Who's your friend?” 

Ivan sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously already frustrated with the Ghoul. “Feliciano, this is Alfred. Alfred, this is Feliciano.” He said quickly, not giving either time to interject or even shake each other's hands. “Please answer the question.”

“What question?” Feliciano asked. 

“Why are you out here and not back in Heritage?” Ivan asked tersely. 

“Oh! I came out to find supplies!” He answered. “Ludwig has been so busy lately, and he needs so many things! I thought I would help out.” 

“And have you found anything useful?” Ivan asked, as if he already knew the answer. Feliciano's face fell. 

“Not exactly. Mostly I've managed to find radroaches, and those feral dogs.” He said, hanging his head. “And you!” He added, perking back up. “Ludwig will be so happy to see you! You know, Natalia has been asking after you.” He said, looking the picture of innocence despite the way Ivan's face drained of all color at the words. 

“H-has she?” He asked, his voice trembling. “What did you tell her?” 

“That we hadn't seen you in a very long time. Which is true! You should come by the village more often, Ivan. We miss you.” Feliciano said, pouting. 

“If Francine would let more caravans through, I would come more often.” Ivan promised, though his eyes shifted away quickly to indicate a lie. 

“Francine?” Alfred asked, trying to remember where he'd heard that name before. 

“She's the leader of the Frontiersmen.” Ivan explained. “They live in the old heritage village, call it Heritage. They're a bit isolationist, but they're friendly enough with most people. I used to be a guard there, for a while. Then I wasn't.” Ivan shrugged, as if that explained everything. 

“Ivan got into a fight.” Feliciano supplied helpfully. Ivan glared at him. 

“It wasn't a fight, it was a...very heated argument.” He said. 

“He was drunk.” Feliciano said. 

“I had only had one beer.” Ivan insisted. “And anyway, that was years ago. Before-” He stopped himself, looking at Alfred. “Before I met you, so it's not your business.” He said to Alfred, who held his hands up in surrender. 

“Hey, man, don't sweat it. I'm not judging.” Alfred said. And he wasn't, he was too busy trying to remember where he had heard of Francine before. Because he'd never heard of the Frontiersmen. 

_“Kid, I don't know where Francine was from, but it wasn't a Vault.”_

“So you're coming to visit, right?” Feliciano asked, looking at Ivan with pleading eyes. “Or...you'll at least take me back?” He looked sheepish at this request, scuffing his toe in the dirt. 

“No” Ivan said. 

“Yes.” Alfred said at the same time. 

“What? Alfred, Heritage is out of our way, why not bring him with us to Can Town, then send him with a caravan?” Ivan said, confused. 

“It's not like we're on a time crunch, Ivan.” Alfred said. “And besides, we wanted to cover our tracks. What better way than to circle back?” Ivan narrowed his eyes, looking at Alfred contemplatively. 

“Why do you want to go to Heritage?” He asked. 

“Feliciano obviously needs help getting home!” He said, perhaps a little overzealously, slinging an arm over Feliciano's shoulders. “Can Town is a long way away, and we can't just leave him hanging out in the Wastes like this!” 

“Oh, please don't.” Feliciano said, looking like he was on the verge of tears. “I want to go home!” 

“Look at him! I'm surprised he lasted this long. Ivan, if we don't take him home he'll probably like, die to radroaches or something. Look at him, he's not equipped to be out here alone.” Alfred said, clapping Feliciano on the shoulder. 

“He's...not wrong.” Feliciano said, looking sheepish. Ivan sighed like they were going to be the death of him. 

“No one said anything about leaving him out here alone!” Ivan said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Good! Then we're taking him home!” Alfred said, grinning.

“Fine, but we're not staying.” Ivan said, almost like he knew that's exactly what they would be doing. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

The walls of Heritage loomed large over them as they waited for the gates to open. Most settlements had fortifications of some kind, but he'd never seen anyone bother to pour and place concrete walls to keep themselves safe. But they were huge, and sturdy, and Alfred couldn't help feeling safer as he entered than he had since leaving the vault. He'd spent his whole life caged in by concrete and metal, it felt familiar. 

He scanned every face they passed for signs of familiar features, wondering if Francine had any children after his grandad had left with his mom. Did he have any aunts or uncles here? Cousins? Every pair of blue eyes or head of blonde hair was analyzed to see if they matched. He couldn't be sure, though, it had been so long since he'd looked in a mirror. 

“You'll love it here, Alfred! Everyone's so nice, and it's very safe.” Feliciano said, sweeping his arms wide across the expanse of the town. It looked like something out of a picture book. Beautiful and almost perfect. Someone had taken the time and care to restore these buildings as best they could, paint and all, and the care they had taken showed. It was like stepping into the world he'd always dreamed of visiting when he was a kid, the world the way he was told it was his whole life. If you looked closely you could see the scorch marks, dead trees, and the hardness in the eyes of the residents. But if he took off his glasses and squinted, this was a Pre-War town. 

“It's beautiful.” He said softly. 

“I know, ve~” Feliciano said, smiling brightly. “This place was a dump before Francine and the Frontiersmen moved in. But that was a long, long time ago. Before I was born.” 

“How old are you?” Alfred asked, curious. He knew Ghouls could be very, very old. He'd never considered that they could be young, too. 

“I'm 23.” Feliciano replied. “I've only been a Ghoul for about 2 years. It's not that bad.” He said, his smile faltering a bit. “People here in Heritage are very nice.” 

“Not so much everywhere else.” Alfred said sadly. 

“No, not so much everywhere else.” Feliciano admitted. “Here, let me show you my house!” He said, the immediate change of subject not lost on Alfred, but he decided to let it slide. 

They made their way through the town of beautiful ancient houses, Alfred marveling at every one. The restoration jobs were amazing! “Who did all of this?” He asked.

“Well our head carpenter is Berwald, but everyone pitches in.” Feliciano said. “This is my house! I share it with Ludwig. He's my husband and I love him so, so, so much!” The Ghoul was excited now as he practically yanked the door to the house open. 

“Ludwig! I'm home!” He cried, his face falling quickly when there was no answer. “Oh, I know! He's probably in his workshop. Come on!” 

Feliciano led them around the back of the house. As they rounded the corner, Alfred could hear the unmistakable sounds of metal striking metal. A squat metal shack sat behind the beautiful house, hidden from view and out of earshot, the door slightly ajar. Feliciano opened it to reveal a well-muscled blonde man, hammering away at what looked like a set of metal armor. 

“Ludwig~ I'm home!” Feliciano called again. Ludwig looked up from the armor with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see Feliciano there. Then his face turned stern, and Alfred had to fight the urge to take a step back. The man was seriously scary-looking!

“Feli where have you been! When the guards told me you'd left, I-” He stopped, clenching his teeth. “Why would you do such a thing? Where did you go? Are you hurt? Let me see you.” He said, striding over to the Ghoul and grabbing him by his wrist, checking him over intently for any injuries. 

“It's okay, Ludwig! I'm fine. Ivan and Alfred saved me!” He said brightly, as if that made it better that he'd run off in the first place. 

“That's not the point!” Ludwig shouted. “You could have been dead and I wouldn't have known! Do you know what this armor is for? It's for me, so I could go out there and track you down you...you...” The man looked like he was about to blow a gasket, vein popping in his forehead and skin an angry red color. 

“Hey, hey!” Alfred said, getting in between them. “Feliciano was just trying to help!” 

“Mind your own business, whoever you are.” Ludwig snapped. 

“Stop yelling at him and I will!” Alfred snapped back, eyes defiant and face set in a snarl as he stared Ludwig down. 

“Ve?” Feliciano said, looking startled. 

Ludwig took a deep breath and a step back. “I'm sorry, Feli. I was just so worried about you.” He said, taking the Ghoul in his arms and holding him tenderly. “Please, never do that again. You know I don't like it when you go outside the walls without me.” 

“I'm sorry, Ludwig. I won't do it again. I promise.” Feliciano said. “But look! I found Ivan, and he came to visit with his friend!” 

For the first time, Ludwig actually _looked_ at the people in the room who weren't Feliciano. He started with Ivan, frowning at him sternly like he'd done something wrong. Ivan had the grace to look chastised, so maybe he did. Then his eyes lighted on Alfred and he did a double-take, blinking rapidly. 

“You. Who are you?” He asked, suddenly suspicious. 

“Alfred. Jones. Doctor Alfred Jones.” He replied nervously. 

“Jones....What was your mother's maiden name?” He asked. Alfred blinked. So, was he right? Was the Francine here the same one Sadiq had mentioned. 

“Kirkland.” He said “Ludwig, do you know anything about...anything?” He asked, not really knowing how else to phrase the question. 

“I know enough to know that you need to be taken to Francine immediately.” Ludwig said, finally letting go of Feliciano and crossing over to Alfred. “Ivan, stay with Feliciano and make sure he doesn't get into any more trouble. Come with me, Dr. Jones.” 

Alfred followed him out of the workshop, the bottom dropping out of his stomach as he realized he was about to meet his grandmother. What was she like? Was she as hard as Sadiq had said, maybe too hard for a grandson fresh out of the vault and still growing up? Would she be glad to see him, or throw him out? Would she even remember his mom?

He shoved the thoughts aside as they walked down main street through the town. It had been a park Pre-War, and you could tell. The houses were spaced farther apart than in a true residential area, though it looked like the Frontiersmen had filled the gaps with other, less well-made buildings of scrap wood and metal. The burnt out husks of trees and dead grass would have been beautiful hundreds of years ago, lush and green. But it was still the most beautiful place he'd ever seen. 

They made their way to the Millermore Home, which the Frontiersmen had repurposed as their headquarters. People in brown vests and cowboy hats milled about, pistols at their side and their eyes trained on the newcomer as Ludwig led Alfred inside. He stared back, wondering where they'd found all of those hats and if it was some kind of uniform. 

The house itself was some grand, neoclassical thing with huge white pillars holding up a porch that was much too high. It was probably a Civil War-era home, or a reproduction. It looked like it would fit in perfectly in Gone With the Wind, and Alfred wondered how long it had stood here.

As they wandered through the interior of the home, Alfred tried not to gawk. But it was hard, with the unprecedented beauty all around him. Someone had gone to the trouble over the years to collect what looked like hundreds of paintings, new and Pre-War. Statuary and sculptures sat in corners and on tables and shelves, some half-broken but obviously restored with care. 

Did his grandma do this? Whoever had obviously loved art, a lot. 

“Come this way, Alfred.” Ludwig said, leading him deeper into the house past more art. 

“Where did you guys get all of this?” He asked, his voice low and awed. 

“Some of it was already here. Some of it Francine collected in her travels. Some was bought off of the caravans.” Ludwig answered. “Some Feli did, he's very talented.” 

Alfred was a little shocked at that. Feliciano had seemed a little ditzy when he met him, though he supposed that didn't mean anything. Artists were weird sometimes. “Really? You should show me one of his. Maybe. You know, after I meet...Francine.” Alfred said, nervous all of a sudden as they approached a closed door down the end of a hallway labeled “Office”. 

Ludwig knocked on the door and waited, Alfred fidgeting behind him. When it finally opened, Alfred sucked in a breath only to let it out again in disappointment. It was another one of the generic cowboy-looking guys. 

“State your business.” He said, frowning. “Francine's very busy.” 

“She's not too busy for this.” Ludwig said. “I have someone she needs to meet.” 

The door closed in their face. 

It reopened again a few seconds later and they were ushered inside. She was there at the desk, her head of silvery hair bent over paperwork, a pistol on the desk in front of her. At first, he didn't see it. He couldn't see anything of himself in this woman. But when she looked up, and he saw her face clearly, he gasped. 

Her nose, her eyes, the curve of her lips, it was unmistakable. She looked so much like his mother that it floored him, and he had to force back tears as all of the homesickness and missing her and Mattie came rushing back. 

“You...” She said softly, looking hard at him. “Who are you?” 

“I'm Alfred.” He said, not sure how else to respond. What do you say to your grandmother that you've never met? 'Hi, I'm your grandson! Sorry that you never got to see my mom grow up.'? 

“Alfred what, child?” She asked. 

“Jones. But...” He swallowed thickly. “My mother's maiden name is Kirkland. I think...I think you're my grandma.” He looked at her, then, his eyes searching hers for any clue at what she might be feeling, but she was a closed book. The second he'd said the name Kirkland, it was like everything had shut down. 

“Mary.” She whispered, the only indication that she was feeling anything at all. 

“She's my mother.” Alfred said. 

Francine reached down into one of the drawers of her desk and produced a bottle of bourbon. “Sit.” She said, pouring two glasses. “And you,” She said, addressing Ludwig and the man who had answered the door. “Leave.” 

Alfred sat down as the two men left the room. They were both silent as Francine drank deeply from one of the glasses, handing the other to Alfred. 

“It seems we have a lot to talk about.” She said. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Ivan fidgeted in Ludwig and Feliciano's kitchen, wondering where the hell Ludwig had taken Alfred to. Wherever it was, Ludwig had come back not long after without the young doctor. Ivan knew the people in Heritage, knew the Frontiersmen. Francine wouldn't hurt Alfred unless he was a threat. And the way Ludwig had spoken about it, that's not what this was. It had something to do with Alfred's family. 

“And then Ivan and Alfred came and saved me from those mean dogs!” Feliciano said, ending his babbling rant about every little thing he'd done since he left Heritage the day before. 

“And this is why I tell you not to go out.” Ludwig admonished. “I appreciate your concern about Heritage and my work, but you need to be more careful.” 

“I will.” Feliciano promised, not looking chastised at all. 

“Ivan, thank you.” Ludwig nodded towards him. “If you and Alfred hadn't been there, I don't know what would have happened.” 

“Of course. I would not just let him be torn apart by dogs.” Ivan said, shrugging. 

“Still, thank you.” Ludwig said. He became contemplative as he looked at Ivan, seeming to be mulling something over inside his head. “Have you spoken to your sister lately?” He asked. Ivan turned pale and shook his head. 

“I thought not.” Said Ludwig, sighing. “It's all she talks about when she and Gilbert come to visit. How you never write or come to see her.” 

“I'm busy, my work with Alfred takes me all over the place.” Ivan lied. 

“And before Alfred?” Ludwig asked, frowning. 

“I was with the caravans. You know they don't go out to Gilbert and Natalia's place very often.” Ivan said. 

“Ivan, do not avoid her. You know you'll only make it worse for yourself by avoiding her.” Ludwig said, looking a bit pale himself. “I know I would not want that woman cross with me.” 

“Your brother seems to enjoy it.” Ivan grumped. He'd never liked Gilbert much, and didn't think he was good enough for his little sister. 

“My brother is insane.” Ludwig said. Ivan shrugged his shoulders, not disagreeing. “Talk to your sister, Ivan. At least send her a letter. Gilbert has taken to complaining for her, and it's getting annoying.” 

“In that case, I'll be sure to get right on it.” Ivan said sarcastically. “Can't have you annoyed.” 

“Talk to your sister.” Ludwig said again, in a tone one might use with a bratty child. “I don't know why you're avoiding her, but this has to end.” 

Ivan wanted to fight, but there was no point. Ludwig was right, the time to tell Natalya what had happened had long passed. But she was going to be mad at him, and she was terrifying when she was angry. 

“Fine. I'll...talk to her.” He said, grinding out the words like they were painful to say. 

“Now that that's settled,” Ludwig said, “Will you and Alfred be staying for very long? We would love to have you for dinner.” 

Ivan sighed. And the social obligations just kept rolling in. This is why he stayed away from Heritage. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“So.” Francine said, pouring herself another glass. “What are you doing here?” 

“Here in Heritage? Here out of the vault? Here with you? You're going to have to be more specific.” Alfred said, chuckling nervously.

“Let's start with here in Heritage.” Francine said, taking a drink. 

“Me and Ivan found Feliciano being chased by dogs out in the Wasteland. We decided to escort him home.” Alfred said. Francine frowned. 

“That's it?” She asked, searching his face. 

“That's it. I didn't even know you were here.” He said, pained when he saw the flicker of disappointment on her face. 

“Arthur and your mother, they didn't talk about me?” She asked. Alfred shook his head. 

“No, not really. But I think there was a good reason. I think Grandpa wanted to protect us, He told me his stories about the Wasteland like they were just scary stories for bedtime. He made it seem like he made everything up so that we'd never ask any questions.” Alfred told her. “I think he left you out so we'd never know that it was real.” 

“I see.” Francine said, staring down at her bourbon. “Is he?” She asked, looking up at him. 

“He's gone.” Alfred said softly, not meeting her eyes. “The Overseer had him killed and tried to frame me for it. I guess that's the answer to the broader question of what I'm doing here, and not at home in Vault 50.” He said, laughing sardonically. 

“Mon dieu.” Francine whispered, her hand tightening around her glass. “And your mother?” 

“As far as I know, she's still in the Vault. Dad said she'd be okay, her and my twin brother Matthew.” He said. 

“You have a brother?” She asked. “I have two grandsons?” Her tone was soft, her eyes wet with unshed tears. 

Alfred nodded, feeling his eyes start to mist up to match. “Yeah, two grandsons. And mom, she grew up really well. She's a teacher, and a damn good one. And Dad...” He paused, choking up a bit. “Dad treated her good, and loved her so much it disgusted me.” He laughed, the tears rolling down his cheeks now “I can't imagine how she's doing without him.” He sobbed, finally breaking down. 

Francine rounded the desk, laying a warm, small hand on his back. “Oh, mon cher.” She soothed. “Let it out, love.” 

“I just miss them so much!” He cried. “And I still don't understand what's going on, not really. I'm so tired of all of the secrets, and the lies. Why didn't I listen!? Jesus, he tried to tell me. He tried to tell me before it was too late, and I brushed him off as a crazy old man. And now I'm out here, and I know nothing, and I just want to go home and I can't. I feel so alone.” 

“Shhh, shh. That's it. Just let it out.” Francine soothed, rubbing her hand over his back and drawing out a dirty handkerchief and handing it to him. He hadn't broken down like this in weeks, having been trying to hold it together so hard. But he realized now that he had needed this.

“You're not alone, mon petit.” She assured him, running her fingers gently through his hair. “Grandmere is here now. Oh, mon pauvre, how you've suffered!” She tutted gently, fussing about him as his tears slowly petered out into sniffles. 

“What do I do now, Grandma?” He asked, wiping his eyes. “How do I rebuild when everyone I love is gone?” 

“You start with a drink.” She said, pressing his glass back into his hand. “And then I will tell you a story.” 

“A story?” He asked, taking a sip of the bourbon and making a face. He hated the taste of alcohol. 

“The story of your grandfather and I.” She said, sitting on her desk and studying his face. “You look like him, you know. Without those hideous eyebrows, of course.” She said, her smile fond and wistful. “I had hoped to see him again, one day.” She sighed. 

“I'm sorry.” Alfred said quietly. 

“It isn't your fault, Alfred.” She said, patting his shoulder. “We both know whose fault this is.” Her eyes turned steely and hard.

“The Overseer.” He said, his voice low and angry. 

“We will find a way to deal with that problem eventually.” Francine promised. “For now, I believe I still have a story to tell you, no?” Alfred nodded eagerly. 

“Well, it's not a very long story, or even a very romantic one. We met in Majestic, while your grandfather was working with the caravans and I was between jobs. He was wild, and free-spirited, and rebellious. He hated the Enclave as much as I did, and neither of us had any love for the Brotherhood, either. We used to go out and deface their propoganda.” She said, laughing wistfully. “Take down their posters and paint over their graffiti. He got into so many fights. I lost count of the number of times one of us had to bail him out the next morning.” 

“I'll be honest, that does sound like Grandpa.” Alfred chuckled. “He was a grouchy old coot, but he always had that fight in him. Even so, it's still hard to imagine him in a physical fight.” 

“Oh, but you never saw him in his prime. I will show you a painting, later.” She said, her eyes far away in another time and place. "Feliciano made it from my sketches."

“So what happened?” He asked. She sighed, looking out the window. 

“A fight went wrong. An Enclave officer died. They were going to execute him if they found him and there was no way I was letting that happen. I had already had your mother, you see. She was about a week old at the time, and not a very healthy baby. I knew that Vault 50, as evil as the experiments were, would be a safe place where she could get the care she needed. And I knew that the Enclave would never find Arthur there.” Francine said, never looking away from the window. It was a beautiful day outside, sunny and bright, but it looked like she wasn't seeing it. 

“So I told him to take her and go. I don't know how he got her into the vault, whose child he passed her off as. I just...let them go.” She said, her voice thick and heavy with emotion. “He gave me his Pip-Boy and left with Mary. After that, I joined up with the Frontiersmen. They were just a small band of hired guns at the time, people who wanted to help but didn't have the resources. I brought them here, to Heritage. We built the walls, restored the buildings, built new ones. With my family gone, this became my legacy.” 

“Seems like a pretty damn good legacy, to me.” Alfred said softly. Francine smiled at him, finally pulled out of her memories. 

“It is. It's one I'm very proud of.” She said. “But now I want to know about you.” She said, laying her hand on Alfred's. “You've told me about your mother, your father, your grandfather, even your brother. Please, tell me about you.” 

Alfred hummed, thinking about how to respond. “Well, I'm a doctor.” He said, because that's what he always led with. 

“How wonderful! You must be very intelligent.” She said. Alfred blushed and shook his head. 

“Nah, or maybe? It's not about being smart, though. Dr. Adnan says its about having steady hands and a strong stomach. Being smart just makes it easier.” He said, brushing off her praise. 

“So, are you a good doctor?” She asked. 

“I like to think so.” He said. “But I'm also really new at it.” 

“Well I'm sure you'll get better with time, my love.” She said, patting his cheek affectionately. She looked at her Pip-Boy and sighed. “I'm so sorry, mon petit. I have work to do. Do you think you could join me for dinner? Bring Ludwig and Feliciano, I would like to thank them for reuniting us.”

“Of course!” Alfred said quickly, glad to have any more time with his grandma that he could get. “When should we be here? And can I bring a friend?” He asked. 

“Bring whoever you like here at 7.” She said, pressing a long kiss to his forehead. “You are more than I ever could have dreamed, Alfred.” She whispered. “I am so glad we've found each other.” 

“I am, too.” He said, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing tight. She didn't smell like grandmas were supposed to, like cookies, or moth balls, or old people. She smelled like harsh sunshine, dust, and gunpowder. But she was his, and he loved her so much already. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Dinner that night turned out to be a casual affair, which caught Ivan off-guard. He knew what he thought was a fair bit about Francine. That she was a harsh woman, a good but stern leader, willing to do whatever it took. But the way she glowed in the candlelight as she looked at Alfred like he was the center of her whole universe didn't fit with any of it. 

“So you are the friend Alfred spoke of. Good to see you again, Ivan.” Francine had said when he'd walked in, her eyes cool and assessing, but a smirk playing at her lips as if she knew something she wasn't going to tell. That, at least, had been the kind of thing he'd expected. Since then, he'd left the conversation drift away from and over him, focusing on his food so no one would try to ask him any questions. 

“So, Ivan, what brings you and Alfred together? Why are you traveling with my grandson?” Francine asked, defying all of Ivan's wishes to be left out of it. 

“He paid me to.” He answered simply, not going into it. 

“I'm not paying you now, though.” Alfred pointed out, despite Ivan's weak glare. 

“No, you are not.” He admitted. 

“Are you really that curious about the Pip-Boy?” Alfred teased. 

“Pip-Boy?” Francine asked. “What Pip-Boy?” 

“This one.” He said, pulling the West-Tek Pip-Boy out of his bag and handing it over the table to her. She gasped seeing the logo. 

“Mon dieu! Is this?” She asked, looking slack-jawed at her grandson. 

“The Pip-Boy with the coordinates to the secret West-Tek entrance tunnel that could get me into their facilities safely?” Alfred asked with a grin. “We're not actually sure, because it's encrypted. But that's a good sign, right? No one encrypts useless data.” 

“How are you doing to get it...unencrypted?” Feliciano asked. 

“Gilbert could probably decrypt it.” Ludwig suggested. “He worked with Pip-Boys a lot back before...well, you know.” He said, everyone suddenly looking uncomfortable. Ivan started to panic internally, but held his tongue. This is exactly why he hadn't wanted Alfred to come to Heritage. Now he knew, and now that he knew he'd want to go to Gilbert. And going to Gilbert meant going to Natalia.

“I don't, actually.” Alfred said, confused. “What happened?” 

“Gilbert didn't take being kicked out of the Brotherhood well.” Francine told him. “He took his wife and practically sealed himself off from the world for a few years afterwards. They live in a very out of the way place, and it's easy enough to keep company away if you don't want it. He's better now, and Natalia makes him come visit from time to time. But he's still bitter.” 

“Which means don't mention it to him.” Ludwig warned. 

“Oh, I won't!” Alfred said. “I'll even promise, if you'll program the coordinates for his place into my Pip-Boy.” 

“No need, Ivan knows the way.” Ludwig said offhandedly, though he could see the bastard smirking at him just a tiny bit before the expression was gone from his face. 

“Ivan?” Alfred asked, a confused look on his face. 

“Later, Alfred.” He murmured, not wanting to start anything. For a moment, Alfred looked like he was going to say something but thought better of it. He would tell Alfred, he had to. He should have the second he found out the Pip-Boy was encrypted. “Why don't you tell them why you want to get into West-Tek.” He suggested. 

Alfred took the bait, still looking at Ivan with hurt blue eyes even as he proudly proclaimed that he was on a quest to cure dFEV. But Ivan could feel the Sword of Damocles over his head as Alfred cast quick glances over to him every once in a while. He would have to explain himself, and make it right somehow. He hated having to do both of those things. That's why he was in this predicament in the first place. 

He steeled himself for the oncoming discussion and grit his teeth through the rest of the dinner. 

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“Why didn't you tell me you knew someone who could decrypt the Pip-Boy?” Was the first thing Alfred said to him once the door to the bedroom Francine had put them in overnight was closed. 

“It's complicated, Alfred.” Ivan said, hoping that would be enough and knowing it wouldn't be. 

“How complicated can it be? You know someone who can do what we need to do, and you didn't tell me! How could you not tell me?” He asked. 

“Because he's married to my sister!” Ivan blurted out. 

“What does that matter? Do you not like him or something? Is that what this is about? What kind of petty bullshit is that, Ivan?” Alfred asked, getting angry. 

“No! I mean, yes I do not like him, but no that's not why. My sister, she is the problem. She's terrifying when she's angry and she's very, very angry with me.” He said, looking around the room as if she could be there, waiting, lurking. 

“Ivan, that's ridiculous. You can't be that scared of your sister.” Alfred scoffed. 

“You don't know her!” Ivan snapped. “And besides, that's not exactly the problem.” He sighed, slumping down onto the bed and letting his head fall into his hands. “I lost the locket.” 

“What?” Alfred asked, confused. 

“It was a family heirloom, from all the way before the war, with pictures of our ancestors. And I lost it.” He groaned.

“What happened?” Alfred asked. 

“It was when I was with the Golden Horde, a group of mercenaries out of the old courthouse. Led by a man who calls himself General Winter.” Ivan started still not looking at Alfred and just staring at the wall. “Me and a group of our men were sent into Vault 52, where we believed there was a set of power armor. What it was doing in a vault is anyone's guess, but it was there. So were another group of mercenaries. There was a fire fight, we had to retreat. I guess somewhere in the chaos, I dropped it.” 

“Then we'll go get it!” Alfred said immediately. Ivan blinked at him. 

“Alfred, we don't have to do that. We can just go to my sister's without it. I will tell her what happened. It will be okay.” Ivan assured him. 

“Ivan, this thing is obviously important to you.” Alfred said. “And what's important to you is important to me, because...” He paused, blushing, “Because we're friends.” He ended lamely. 

“You would go fight a band of mercenaries for any friend?” Ivan asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah.” Alfred said, whole-heartedly sincere. “You should see the lengths I go to for my family.” He grinned. 

Looking down at the bag where Alfred kept the West-Tek Pip-Boy, Ivan chuckled. “I think I already have.” He mulled it over for a second. “Well the vault should be empty by now. The other mercenaries have probably taken the armor and gone.”

“Perfect! We can just go, look for the locket, and at least then you can tell your sister that you tried your best right?” Alfred said, grinning brightly. “It'll be easy!” 

“Yeah,” Ivan said, matching his grin with one that didn't quite reach his eyes. “Easy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed!


	7. The Locket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to Prismturtle. You didn't guess right, but you did inspire me to completely rewrite the main action scene to be a little bit more interesting. I'll admit the first draft was pretty bad, and I didn't want to fix it. But I also didn't want you to show me up too bad ;) 
> 
> I like to think of this chapter as Ivan's "companion quest" since Al's sort of supposed to be the player character and Ivan's one of the available (romanceable) companions. 
> 
> They're currently trying to get what might be considered the "Frontiersman" ending. I doubt anyone would be interested in the other endings (Enclave and Brotherhood), but I have imagined what they would be like just for funsies. Ivan and Alfred are both so versatile that I think they could work as a pairing for any of these stories. I just picked this one because reasons. 
> 
> Emma - Belgium

As Alfred and Ivan approached the gate to leave Heritage, Francine following along behind to bid farewell, the sky was a clear, uniform blue as if someone had spilled thick paint across the sky. No clouds in sight, the sun was heating up quickly and already beating down on their heads and shoulders. 

“Take care of Tony for me.” Alfred told Francine as he stooped to kiss the dog between the ears. “I feel bad, taking him into danger all of the time. He deserves a rest.” 

“Are you sure you want to do this, Alfred?” Ivan asked for the millionth time. 

“I'm sure.” Alfred said, his tone making it clear he'd hear no more arguments. He hugged Francine tight, wishing he didn't have to let go, or leave so soon. “I'll be back before you know it.” He promised her quietly. 

“Be safe, mon cher.” She said, squeezing his shoulder as they pulled away. 

“I will, grandma.” He said, a bittersweet smile on his face. 

“Go, before I change my mind and lock the gates on you.” She said, her eyes starting to water. “Come back to me, Alfred.” 

“I'll see you in a few days.” He promised. “You ready?” He asked Ivan. 

“As I'll ever be.” Ivan sighed. “You know this is a wild goose chase, right? The locket is lost.” 

“That's what you said about the Pip-Boy and now look what we've got.” He said, jerking a thumb back towards his bag. “If it's not there, it's not there. At least you can say you tried.” 

Ivan just sighed and held his tongue as the gates clanged shut behind them.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Vault 52 stood empty and open in front of them, the large, gear-shaped door off of its tracks and the mechanism to close it again in shambles on the floor. They walked gingerly around the pieces as they entered, stepping quietly in case the vault wasn't as empty as it appeared.

“What happened here?” Alfred asked. 

“No one knows.” Ivan said. “As far as anyone can tell, this vault failed a long time before any of the others opened. Everyone in it was dead by the time anyone got inside.”

“That's unsettling.” Alfred said, probably thinking of his own vault home. Ivan wondered how many times it had been close to collapse because of the secret the Overseers had been hiding for generations. What would happen if they found out? Would it be another collapse, or would they make their way out into the wasteland like Alfred had? 

“It means there's no one here to bother us.” Ivan said, deciding it didn't much matter to him what happened to Vault 50. “We can search the vault in peace.” 

“Where were you when you dropped it?” Alfred asked. Ivan sighed and almost slapped him in the back of the head. If he knew that, he would have gone right there to look! 

“I don't know.” Ivan said, trying not to sound too frustrated with him. “But we were much further in than this. Keep an eye out, but let's keep going.” 

“Roger.” Alfred said, taking his gun off of his back and adjusting his glasses. 

They made their way slowly through the vault, eyes scanning the floor for a hint of gold. The air was mustier than most vaults, the whole place covered in a thick layer of dust. They made their way past the atrium and into the residential area, their footsteps echoing softly despite their careful tread. Everywhere they looked were signs that whoever lived here had ceased doing so abruptly. Skeletons still slept tucked into beds, and sat slumped over the counter in the cafeteria. Whatever had happened had happened fast. 

“We were attacked on the reactor level.” Ivan said, hurrying along past a tiny skeleton clutching a teddy bear out in the hallway, disturbed but unwilling to show it. “But that doesn't mean it's there. It could be anywhere in the vault. I might have even dropped it before the attack.” 

“Well. It's a place to start, anyway.” Alfred said, doubling back towards the atrium to lead the way to the reactor level. Ivan fell into step behind him, trying to remember if anything he was seeing looked familiar. Everything did, and yet didn't. Vaults all looked the same to him. This one was just a little creepier than most. He was glad when they left the corpse-crowded living areas for the relative emptiness of the reactors downstairs.

A metal walkway surrounded the edges of the room, creating a platform to walk from the doorway to the command center at the other end without touching the ground. From the doorway they were standing in, Ivan could only see one other way out, a door on the left side of the room. Stairs were placed strategically on all sides of the room, leading down a short drop to the floor of the room. In the middle stood the main bulk of the nuclear reactors for the vault. 

Only one reactor was still functioning, and none of the equipment looked like it had worked properly in centuries. The whole level was lit up with nothing but the dim red glow of the emergency lights, the shadows creeping in from all sides. Somehow it was still better than the eerieness of the upstairs. 

“I can't see anything down here. How are we supposed to look for it?” Alfred asked, reaching to turn the light on his Pip-Boy on. Ivan stopped him, holding a finger to his lips and pausing for a second. 

“Do you hear that?” He asked, going silent again as they both strained their ears. He heard it again, the slow, steady fall of footsteps above them. Alfred nodded his head and pointed up, taking his hand away from the light switch. 

“Looks like we have company.” Alfred whispered. 

“Stay here, I'll investigate.” Ivan whispered back, leaving Alfred where he was and creeping back up the stairs. 

“Damn, still haven't seen the power armor.” One voice said. 

“Be quiet! We don't know what's in here. All we know is that the Rangers left without picking it up.” Another came. 

“Shit.” Ivan cursed, recognizing the voices as two of his compatriots from a lifetime ago. He couldn't remember their names, but he could put the voices to faces plain as day. Alfred looked at him quizzically, but Ivan just shook his head rapidly. He didn't have time to explain as the footsteps grew closer to the stairs. 

“Hide!” He hissed, squeezing in between two of the downed reactors and pulling Alfred with him, wriggling in further until they were shrouded in shadows and hidden from view. They disappeared from sight just as boots hit the stairs, the sound muffled by 200 years of dust. 

“Man, it's weird being back here again.” One of them said. 

“I said be quiet. There's been reports of strange activity in the area, and I don't like that the Rangers just left the power armor here to rot.” The other said. 

“Come on, man. Place is deserted.” The first said, scoffing. He stopped suddenly, his boots visible from where Ivan was crouched. Silence reigned for a stretched second as everyone in the room stood stock still, listening for each other. 

“Wait, did you hear that?” He said, and Ivan could hear the sound of the strap of his gun shifting. The footfall stopped as the other man paused. Ivan waited, holding his breath, for the long moments that they stood there. 

“I did tell you to be quiet.” The second man said, his voice low. “It's probably just a radroach.”

“Yeah, let's just find that power armor.” The first man said, obviously spooked, their foot steps moving away from Alfred and Ivan at long last. Alfred tried to climb out immediately but Ivan held him back until he was sure he couldn't hear them anymore. 

“This isn't safe anymore, Alfred. We need to leave.” Ivan whispered. 

“Why, who are they?” Alfred asked, trying to peek around the reactor. 

“Former...associates of mine.” Ivan said, wincing internally. “They're not good men, and they won't hesitate to shoot us on sight. Me in particular.” 

“What? Why?” Alfred asked. 

“Listen, I'll explain everything later. For now, we just need to-” Ivan cut himself off, straining his ears again. “Fuck, more incoming. Stay low and follow me.” He whispered, crouching low and squeezing between two more reactors to slip out on the other side of the bunch. He took Alfred's hand and tugged him up the stairs into the command center at the back of the room. It was the only cover they had, and their best bet for finding a door that wasn't swarming with Horde mercenaries yet. 

Alfred's steps weren't as soft as his were, and he could hear them behind him as they swiftly stole into the room built out of and onto the wall. It was open on both ends with no doors, and no glass on the large windows to shield them if they got into a fire fight. They could only sit and pray as the mercenaries flooded into the main reactor room. When they had finally settled under a desk, Alfred turned to Ivan. 

“Who are those guys, Ivan?” He asked, voice low and mouth pressed close to his ear, clearly not going to take “I'll tell you later” this time. 

“The Golden Horde. The company of mercenaries I told you about.” Ivan sighed. “I didn't leave on good terms, it's not important right now.” He hissed, not really wanting to talk about them. It had been a long, bloody four years that he was with them, and he was trying to distance himself from that now. 

“I forgot you were a mercenary.” Alfred said, sounding uncomfortable.

“Why do you think Sadiq suggested me to you?” Ivan asked. “You don't become as good as I am in the Wasteland being a warm, fuzzy kind of person.” 

“I guess I just hadn't thought of what you did before we met.” Alfred said, but Ivan shushed him. They were still potentially within earshot of the mercenaries poking around the reactors and he had no idea how many of the Golden Horde Winter had sent to recover the armor. 

“Be quiet, at least until we're somewhere more secure.” Ivan hissed, peeking his head up and eyeing the door in front of them, set into the back of the command center. He had no idea where it led or what they would find there. At this point, though, anything would be better than going back the way they came.

“The door is locked, but there's a computer on the desk above us. Do you think you can hack it?” Ivan asked Alfred. The younger man nodded, slowly peeing his head over the desk and getting on his knees to access the terminal without being seen through the expansive windows. It seemed to take him no time at all, almost, and the door was hissing open almost before Ivan knew it. 

“Good job.” Ivan said, taking his wrist and tugging him through the door. 

“It's what I'm here for.” Alfred said congenially, hitting the button to close the door as soon as they were both on the other side. Ivan dropped his wrist quickly now that he didn't have to tug him along, letting the man follow him down the newly discovered hallway on his own. 

As they went, Ivan peeked into the rooms hoping to find some exit or something. But all he found were mop buckets and extra storage. That is, until he peeked into one room and saw exactly the thing he didn't want to see. A weathered set of bulky T-51 power armor sat, unassuming, in an extra storage closet. It had been left open, and whoever had used it last had left the almost-depleted fusion core and a minigun on the floor next to it. Meaning that they had probably never gotten a chance to come back for it. 

Why? Why had so many people tried to find this power armor, only to abandon it?

“Fuck, it's here.” Ivan said, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“Shit.” Alfred cursed, looking out and cursing again when he only saw a dead end where the hallway they had been following abruptly stopped. Two doors on either side of the corridor were the only places left. “Maybe we could hide until they leave? Once they have the power armor, they have to reason to stay.” He suggested. 

Ivan thought about it, then nodded. “That could work, if we hide further down the hall. One of those rooms should do.” He said, “Come on.” 

They crept down the rest of the hall, sticking to the long shadows in between the dim red emergency lights. Ivan tried the door on the right first, frowning when it opened on what at first seemed like pure darkness. Then a spark lit up the shadow, arcing off of what he could now see was a large Tesla coil in the middle of the room. Somehow, it was still operating after all these years. He could smell the thick ozone in the air, and had to keep himself from jumping back as another mini lightning bolt shot off from the obviously unstable device. 

Movement caught his eye, and he squinted to see better in the almost total darkness of the room. Another flash of light and he caught the sinister curve of a horn. Ice filling his veins, he slammed on the button to close the door and grabbed Alfred's wrist. 

“We have to hide!” He said, panic clawing at his throat as he opened up the door on the left and shoved Alfred inside of what turned out to be a closet. 

“Dude, what the fuck?” Alfred started, obviously intent on chewing him out further. But the inhuman roar that shook the vault stopped him short, the color draining out of his face as he clung to Ivan. 

“What was that?” He asked in a hushed voice, eyes blown wide with panic. “What the fuck was that?” He repeated, his voice going up an octave. Ivan was about to answer when the sound of tearing metal screeched at them from across the hallway. He heard the door being pulled off of its hinges, and a series of loud clangs as it was presumably tossed somewhere. 

Another roar, closer this time, as the monster slammed into the flimsy door separating it from the two terrified humans inside. Ivan clamped his hand over Alfred's mouth the second before he screamed, muffling the sound. The impact left a dent in the door in the rough shape of the curve of one of its horns, but the door blessedly held. Fearing another attack, both men stood frozen and staring at the door. But it never came. Instead, they heard heavy, clawed footsteps on the metal floor of the vault, slowly making their way down the hallway towards the reactor room.

“Ivan, what the fuck was that?” Alfred turned away from Ivan's hand and hissed, fingers digging into his arm.

“Deathclaw.” Ivan said, blowing the word out on a shaky breath and gathering Alfred up into his arms for comfort. Both his and Alfred's. “About 9 or 10 feet of angry with claws like swords and teeth like daggers. They look like the Devil and they're twice as mean. They're almost immune to energy weapons, and it can take hundreds of bullets to down one, if not a thousand or more.”

“We're so fucked.” Alfred whimpered, burying his face in Ivan's scarf. “We're going to die here.” 

“Maybe the Horde will take care of it.” Ivan said, trying to cheer him up. Alfred was always so optimistic, it worried him that he was so sure they were doomed. Defeatist attitudes were his job. Everything seemed topsy-turvey in that moment. 

“And then what? Then we have to face the Horde.” Alfred scoffed, looking up at Ivan to reveal he had begun to cry. “I'm so sorry, Ivan. I should have listened to you.” He said, a fresh wave of tears spilling down his cheeks. “We should have just gone to your sister's and explained what happened, like you said. Now we're going to die here and you're never going to get to see her again. And I'll never see Matt or my mom again, and I'll never cure dFEV.” He sobbed, clinging to Ivan tightly. 

“It'll be okay, Alfred.” Ivan soothed softly. He held the other man close, letting him cry into his scarf as he thought. Maybe, maybe if Alfred calmed down and was quiet...maybe if the deathclaw and the Horde were too busy with each other....

“Alfred, I need you to stop crying, okay?” He said softly, petting his wheat-blonde hair. “I have a plan, but we need to move quickly and stay quiet. Can I count on you?” He asked. The words were like a spell, one that magically made Alfred brave. He looked up into Ivan's eyes, all hard steel and fire despite the red puffiness, and nodded. 

“You can count on me.” He said, with a finality that made Ivan believe it.

“Okay, we're going to try to sneak out while the Horde is fighting the deathclaw.” Ivan said, wincing as Alfred gaped at him. 

“Ivan, you're _trying_ to get us killed!” He hissed, pushing away from Ivan to glare at him reproachfully. 

“No, listen!” Ivan said, grabbing his arms to keep him close. Not that he had far to go in the tiny closet. “The deathclaw will be too busy with them and they will be too busy with it. It's our best chance to get out of here. Or do you want to hope the mercenaries kill that monstrosity then leave after they have the power armor?” 

“Fuck.” Alfred cursed, wiping a hand down his face. “You're right. If the deathclaw kills them, we're left as sitting ducks.” 

“So we move.” Ivan said, hand hovering over the button to open the door. 

“It's now or never.” Alfred agreed, gritting his teeth and raising his gun as Ivan hit the button and the door slid open. 

Ivan peeked his head out slowly, heart hammering in his chest. They had no real way of knowing where the deathclaw was, or if it was coming back. But for now, at least, the coast seemed clear. “Let's go.” He said, slipping out of the closet silently as Alfred followed along behind him. They were more careful now than they had been coming the other way, even Alfred's footsteps soft and steady. 

As they got closer to the end of the hall, they could hear the sound of gunshots and screaming coming from the reactor room. Another roar shook the vault, letting them know exactly where the deathclaw was. The door had been ripped out, like the one down the hall, the frame bent where the deathclaw had torn it out. They crouched low, crawling through the warped doorway and taking cover behind the same desk they had hid under coming in. 

“So what's the plan?” Alfred whispered. “Just make a break for it and hope no one notices?” 

“That's about right, yes.” Ivan confirmed, peeking up over the desk just in time to see a mangled body soar through the glassless window to slump over the desk, thrown by the angry deathclaw.

“Jesus H. Christ.” Alfred swore, jumping back from the body and scrambling across the floor. The woman moaned in pain, still alive somehow despite her injuries. 

Ivan, resolutely ignoring the dying woman, looked over her and out of the window. The deathclaw stood more than head and shoulders taller than any of the mercenaries, even hunched. Wicked black horns curved down over an ugly, scaled face with a short snout and hateful red eyes. It's scaly hide almost glowed in the dim light, catching and reflecting it as hundreds,maybe thousands of bullets pelted its skin like so many rubber rounds. Long arms, much too long and ending in foot-long razor sharp claws, swiped and reached for its prey, easily covering most of the room with its wide reach. A thick, muscled tail swished back and forth, sometimes catching Horde soldiers off-guard and knocking them down. 

The mercenaries were everywhere, spread out across the reactor room with no space free for Alfred and Ivan to slip through. But as he watched, they started to drive the monster to one side of the room, expertly focusing their attacks and withdrawls to herd it towards the set of doors that didn't lead up to the top floor of the vault. 

“They're leading it away.” Ivan said as the first few mercenaries disappeared through the doors. “Now's our chance.”

He trusted Alfred to follow quietly as he stole out of the command center, clutching his gun and crouching low to the ground to avoid the bullets still flying everywhere. One pinged off of the railing as Alfred came out, and the Doctor's face went white. 

“Just keep moving!” He hissed, running as best he could in his crouched position. If any of the mercenaries noticed them, they didn't turn their attention away from the towering behemoth attacking them to show it. 

A bullet whizzed by right in front of his nose and he drew up short for a moment, stunned. He looked back to Alfred on impulse and found his eyes as wide as his own. “It's okay, Alfred. Just keep moving.” He said again, turning forward again and pressing on. 

By the time the last of the mercenaries had disappeared through the side door, Ivan already had boots on the stairs. Hope swelled in his heart as he realized that they'd done it. They had gotten past the deathclaw and they were nearly free. 

Ivan didn't see the glint of gold on the other side of the room. But Alfred did. 

“Ivan, I think I see it!” He called, and Ivan turned in horror to see him rushing down the platform stairs - right past the side door. And then everything seemed to happen at once. 

Alfred came rushing back towards him with a wide grin on his face just as another mercenary, covered in blood with a leg missing, was thrown through the doorway. The body flew past Alfred, freezing him in place. The deathclaw came after, movements quicker than a creature that size had any right to be. 

Ivan thought he screamed when the monster picked Alfred up in one massive, razor-tipped hand and slammed him to the ground, but he couldn't be sure. All he knew was that he had to get that thing away from Alfred before it attacked again. He shot at it, hitting it square in the shoulder but seeming to do no damage. As it turned those red, hate-filled eyes on him, he knew he had made a mistake. 

“Over here, ugly!” He called, deciding to go for broke and protect the doctor. He started running, not bothering to stop and shoot. 

The deathclaw charged at him, a long arm reaching out to swipe at him. Ivan ducked into a roll, passing under the swing, and sprung immediately back into a run. The deathclaw slammed into the wall behind where he had been and bounced off, turning to Ivan and giving another bone-rattling roar. It was only more terrifying up close and chasing him. 

Dagger-like claws raked down his back, tearing into his armor, as he rushed through the doorway of the command center and into the hallway at the back. He could hear the Deathclaw behind him, the spikes on it's back scraping against the ceiling and it's claws clicking on the floor every time it stepped. He could hear the breath snorting out of its nose, and when it opened its mouth to roar again he could feel it like a hot wind.

He didn't look back, putting on a burst of speed as he neared his destination. If he could just get to the end of the hall, it would all be okay. He had a plan, everything would be okay. He just needed to get to the end of the hall. 

He dodged another swipe, but just barely. 

He shot the button to open the door, grabbing the frame and swinging himself into the storage closet just as it slid up. The deathclaw was right behind him, swiping a paw into the tiny closet and missing Ivan by a hair as he dove behind the T-51, grabbing the fusion core off the shelf as he passed. He slammed the core into the armor and climbed inside, letting out a breath of relief as it closed around him and booted up. 

The HUD sprang to life in front of his eyes, displaying the suit's diasnostics and a few other things Ivan couldn't be bothered with as another errant swipe from the deathclaw's hand nearly toppled him, armor and all. But whatever mechanisms the suit had in it whirred to life, stabilizing him and keeping him standing. 

He grabbed the minigun off of the shelf and shoved it in the deathclaw's face, pelting the monster with dozens of rounds a second and still only managing to annoy it enough to back away. He kept the gun trained on its face as he stepped forward, pushing the thing back so he could exit the closet. 

Once he was out, he turned and ran. Not towards the reactor room, but towards the end of the hallway. The deathclaw followed hot on his heels, and any hesitation would allow it to catch up. Luckily, the room he wanted no longer had a door. 

The Tesla coil sparked as he entered the darkened room, giving him enough of a glimpse that he knew where to go. He ran to the far side of the room, ducking behind the coil just as the deathclaw took a swipe at him again. If he could just maneuver it right, this would all be over soon. 

He ducked and dove, heart hammering in his chest. He knew this was dangerous, he knew it. It was dangerous and stupid and he was going to get himself killed. If the deathclaw didn't get him, the coil that occasionally lit the room with its arcing lightning certainly would. And in a tin can like this, he would be lit up if the thing struck him. But, God, if it meant Alfred lived... _Please, God, let him live_.

He took a few errant shots at the deathclaw, trying to keep its attention as he ran circles around the coil. All he needed was one lucky moment. Just one, and he could end this. But it was taking longer than he wanted it to, and even in the armor he was getting tired of all of the running. 

Finally, the enraged beast went for an overhead swipe just as Ivan dove behind the coil again. Sparks flew and the ozone permeating the air got thicker as the deathclaw hit the top load of the Tesla coil, sending a wave of high-voltage, low-current energy running through it. It screamed, the sound gut-turning and terrifying, frozen in place as the electricity burned through its body. 

Ivan grinned wickedly. Just the result he was hoping to achieve. Especially since the way the beast was held in suspension by the current left its soft underbelly wide open to attack. 

He emptied the rest of the bullets in the minigun into the tender flesh, the bursts of red as they hit their mark and drilled deep instead of simply pinging off or being absorbed highly satisfying. He couldn't have possibly counted how many bullets he drilled into the deathclaw's belly. Probably hundreds. Whatever number it was, it was enough. 

The beast gave one last pitiful roar that sounded more like a cry, swaying in place as the blood loss and electric shock disoriented it. It took a step towards Ivan, a claw weakly reaching out in some sort of half-hearted attempt, before promptly collapsing onto the ground.

Ivan stood there for a moment, breathing heavily and trying to comprehend what had just happened. But before the realization that he had _killed a fucking deathclaw_ could really hit, he remembered Alfred. Heart leaping into his throat, he jumped over the hulking corpse of the monster he had just slain and ran back towards the reactor room. 

He found Alfred surrounded by Horde mercenaries, most sporting deep cuts and bruises from the fight. He recognized one of the women, Emma Peeters. She was reasonable, he remembered. She had always been kind to him, and preferred to use words over wasting bullets. Maybe he could work with this. His heart lept into his throat, and he growled out through the armor's tinny voice box, “Step away from the man and leave.” 

“Braginsky?” Emma asked, green eyes narrowing. “What are you doing here?”

“That doesn't matter. Step away from the man and leave this place.” He reiterated. He should have known better than to speak. His accent was too recognizable, and he had spent too long with these people. He should have known Peeters would know him immediately. 

“How about a trade?” She said, smirking and training her gun on Alfred's prone form. “You seem attached to the kid. How about him for the power armor?” 

Ivan leveled the minigun at her. “Or I could mow you all down where you stand.” 

“You wouldn't.” She hissed. And she was right. If he shot them, they would shoot Alfred before he could stop them. Or he would shoot Alfred on accident. Miniguns weren't very accurate. And he was almost sure he had emptied it into the deathclaw, anyway. But she didn't have to know that.

“Try me.” He growled, standing his ground. The last time Peeters had seen him, he had been far from reasonable. Ivan-before-Alfred wouldn't have hesitated, and she would remember that. At least, he hoped. If she called his bluff and he stepped out of the armor, there was no guaranteeing the Horde wouldn't shoot both him and Alfred. 

They stood like there for a frozen second before she scoffed, eyes glittering dangerously as she holstered her gun. “Winter will hear about this, Braginsky.” She said coolly, turning on her heel and beckoning the rest of her cadre to follow as she left up the stairs.

Ivan waited until he could no longer hear their footsteps before he opened the suit up and climbed out. He rushed to Alfred, crouching down at his side and feeling for a pulse. He thanked the heavens when he found it, strong and steady. 

“Alfred! Alfred please wake up.” He begged softly, slipping his hand under the other man's head and wincing when he felt blood wetting his fingers. 

“Der'mo.” He swore, carefully gathering Alfred up in his arms and cradling his bloody head in the crook of his arm. “Alfred, we are safe.” He urged him. “You can wake up now, everything is okay.” 

He lay still in his arms, unresponsive. Ivan pressed their foreheads together and closed his eyes tight. 

“Please, solnyushka.” He begged, eyes stinging. He almost looked like he was sleeping, face lax and breathing even. He looked so young like this, and Ivan was reminded of just how young he was. And now he might never see those fiery blue eyes again, or hear that contagious disease of a laugh.

He fought back against the stinging heat in his eyes as he brushed his lips over Alfred's forehead tenderly. “It can't end yet.” He whispered into his hairline. “Not like this.” 

“Not like what?” A drowsy voice piped up, muffled by his scarf. Ivan pulled back to look at Alfred's face. Hazy blue eyes looked up at him, disorientation and confusion written all over the man's face. 

“Alfred!” Ivan cried, arms tightening around him. 

“Ow! Gentle, gentle.” Alfred hissed, wincing. “I think that body slam bruised a few ribs.” 

“Sorry.” Ivan said quickly, loosening his hold. “I was just so happy that you're alive!” He said, a relieved grin sweeping across his face. “You're alive and....” The grin dropped as he came to a realization, turning into a stormy scowl. “And you are such a fucking idiot!” He growled. 

“Wha?” Alfred asked, furrowing his brow. 

“We were doing so well, you imbecilic child! We were almost out of danger when you went after that stupid-” Alfred cut him off with a grin, holding up the item in question. 

“That stupid locket?” He asked mischievously, letting it dangle from his fingers by the chain. Ivan snatched it out of his hand and clutched it tightly, glaring at it venomously before throwing it into his bag a little harder than necessary. 

“Who cares about the locket!?” Ivan growled, turning back to him. “You almost got yourself killed! You almost got _me_ killed!” 

“Yeah, but I didn't. And I got the locket!” Alfred huffed. 

“You think that that locket is half as important as your life?” Ivan asked, incredulous. “Alfred, I almost lost you!” 

“Me?” Alfred asked, taken aback. 

“Yes, you! You stupid, idiotic, foolish, brave, thoughtless, reckless, terrible man!” He cried, wanting to punctuate every word with a slap to his empty head but knowing that would just make his probable concussion worse. “You are much more important than some dumb jewelry!” 

For some reason, that made Alfred look at him like he'd hung the moon. Ivan decided to chalk it up to the concussion. His eyes were looking more and more unfocused by the minute. The anger dissipated, replaced by a more protective urge.

“Stay here, Alik.” He sighed, gently laying Alfred back on the floor. “I will put the armor back on and then I will take you somewhere safe, okay?” 

Alfred nodded, wincing when the back of his head scraped against the floor. “Safe sounds good.” He said softly, eyes already starting to slide shut again.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

When Alfred next became aware, the first thing he noticed was a sense of movement. Wherever he was, they were going somewhere. Then came the bite of the metal arms of the power armor into his back and legs. Slowly, he realized that Ivan was carrying him, bridal style, as he tromped about in the armor.

“Let me down.” He said, groaning as the splitting pain in his head came back. “I have to throw up.” 

Ivan put him down quickly and let him empty his stomach onto the grass. 

“Where are we?” He asked, looking around. They were out on the open plains again, the ruins of the city out of sight somewhere behind them. 

“On our way to my sister's.” Ivan said. “It's safe there, and we have business.” 

“Jesus, Ivan, where does your sister live?” Alfred asked, slowly righting himself to avoid another wave of nausea. 

“Francine did mention that her husband took her far away.” Ivan told him. “Gilbert did not want to be bothered after the Brotherhood collapsed, and so he went somewhere where there was no one to bother him.” 

“Are we almost there?” Alfred asked in a half-whine. He was beginning to realize how hot the day was, especially being carried by sun-heated metal. He was also thirsty, and hungry, and in a lot of pain. 

“Hush, Alik. We're almost there.” Ivan soothed. “Do you think you can walk the rest of the way?” 

Alfred nodded quickly, though he had no idea how long he could walk without throwing up. Being carried had been nice for when he was in and out of consciousness, but he preferred to walk on his own two legs. He didn't like the idea of relying that heavily on anyone, even Ivan. 

“You'll let me know if you feel too weak or dizzy, da?” Ivan asked, a note of concern in his voice that made Al's stomach do strange flips. He only vaguely recalled their conversation in the vault, but now every time Ivan looked at him it was different somehow. Or it felt different. 

“I'll let you know.” Alfred said, giving him a half-smile. 

They must have been closer than Ivan thought, or Alfred was stronger than he'd given him credit for, because he was still walking under his own power 5 minutes later when the shack came into view. It was large, for a shack, and surrounded by piles of pre-war junk. Oil barrels, bike parts, burnt out cars, and machines that Alfred didn't even know what they did littered the yard as they approached. 

“What do they do, run a junk shop?” Alfred asked. 

“In a sense.” Ivan said. “Gilbert fixes things, Old World tech mostly. It was his job in the Brotherhood to restore old tech that didn't function anymore, so he just continued doing that. It doesn't pay well, not out here at least, but he and Natasha keep food on their table.” He stopped, exiting the power armor and shaking his head to fix his helmet hair.

Alfred stumbled over something that looked a bit like a muffler on steroids as he followed Ivan to the door. He watched as he stood there for a long moment, his hand poised to knock but frozen in place. 

“What are you waiting for?” Alfred asked. “You have the locket.” 

“I have been avoiding her.” Ivan sighed. 

“Come on, man. She's your sister, she'll forgive you. How bad can it be?” Alfred asked. 

“For three years.” Ivan said, deadpan. 

Alfred winced. “Maybe she'll be happy to see you?” He said, not even believing it as he said it. If Matt had deliberately avoided him for years, he knew he'd be pissed the fuck off. 

Ivan groaned, but knocked on the door nonetheless. 

The petite woman who opened the door resembled Ivan only in her coloring. She lacked the large nose, and the large frame of her brother. But the intense violet eyes that pinned you with a stare? Those, they shared. 

“Vanya.” She said, in a sickly sweet tone. “So kind of you to _finally_ come see me.” 

“Natasha, I can explain!” He said, putting his hands up like she had a gun on him. 

“I don't want you to explain!” She said, punctuating it with a stomp of her foot. “I want you to apologize and come in for lunch.” 

“Izveni, sestra.” Ivan mumbled, hanging his head. Natalia looked for all of the world like she wanted to hit him upside it with the broom in her hand, but thought better of it. 

“Come in, brother. And bring your friend. He looks half-dead.” Natalia grumbled, leveling a cool stare at Alfred as he came inside. 

“We brought a gift.” Alfred said, trying to butter her up and see if she'd drop the ice princess act. She didn't. 

“I see that.” She said, eyeing the power armor. “For Gilbert? He will be pleased.” She said, sniffing daintily in a way that reminded Alfred of Ivan when he was acting snooty. 

“No, not that. Well, yes, I had intended to leave it with Gilbert. But that isn't what he meant.” Ivan said, dropping heavily onto one of Natalia's kitchen chairs. 

“Then what did he mean?” Natasha asked. “Spit it out.” 

“I lost the locket-” 

“WHAT!?” 

“But I got it back!” Ivan protested. 

“Ivan, so help me God, if that's why you've been avoiding me, I will skin you alive and feed you to the brahmin!” Natasha hissed, an angry fire in her eyes. 

“Please spare me!” Ivan cried. 

“You absolute imbecile!” She screeched as she began whacking him with her broom finally. “You think I prefer some ancient locket over your company!?” 

“I was ashamed, sestra!” Ivan said, distress evident on his face as he tried to fend off her attacks. “That locket was so important to Mama, and Mama was so important to you and Katya...I couldn't face you after I lost it. I'm so sorry, Natasha. I should have told you three years ago that I had lost the locket.”

“Then maybe we wouldn't have had to fight that deathclaw.” Alfred muttered. 

“Deathclaw!?” Natalia cried, everything forgotten as she rushed to check Ivan over for wounds, cooing over and coddling him like a child. “Oh, Vanya, please tell me you didn't fight a deathclaw for the locket.” She said, tears in her eyes. “I couldn't stand the sight of it if I knew you nearly killed yourself to get it.” 

“To be fair, we didn't know the deathclaw was there until we got there.” Alfred said. 

“Shut up, stupid boy! It's probably your fault!” Natalia hissed. 

“Maybe a little.” Alfred admitted. 

Natalia sprung at him, claws out, but Ivan caught her around the middle and held her back.

“Please, Natasha! Be polite. Alfred is your guest and my...friend.” Ivan said, blushing a little, which caused Alfred to blush, too. Natalia stalled in Ivan's arms, regarding Alfred again with a hint of curiosity in her eyes. 

“Interesting.” She said. “Ivan doesn't have many friends.” 

“No? Could have fooled me.” Alfred snorted. 

“How would you know if I had friends? You haven't known me very long at all.” Ivan protested. “And you met Antonio in Samuell Farm!” 

“Maybe, but I can tell. I still remember the first time we met, and how scary intense you were! You gotta tone that down, dude. At least, if you want a lot of friends. If you want to scare people off, then yeah, keep being yourself.” Alfred teased. 

“In the hotel?” Ivan asked, confused. 

“No, when I first came into Can Town.” Alfred said. Ivan thought for a minute, then laughed. 

“You ran into me, you dolt, of course I didn't look very nice!” Ivan said. 

“I ran into you twice, actually. Before we met, that is.” Alfred said. He didn't notice Natalia watching them with avid interest, a smirk curling her lips. 

“Alfred, you look tired.” She said suddenly, pulling them out of each other's orbit. “Why don't you go lay down in the guest room while Ivan and I talk?” 

“That's a good idea.” Ivan said. “I'll check on you later.” 

Alfred was tired of resting, finally feeling the pain of everyone he'd ever confined to bed rest, but he went without argument. He was hot, and sweaty, and every fiber of his being ached from being slammed on the ground. Every time he breathed in there was a sharp pain in his ribs that he knew was from the bruising, and his head still felt like it was splitting open. 

He zoned in and out on the bed, Ivan and Natalia's low voices eventually blending together into a soothing babble that relaxed him enough to close his eyes and rest.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

“So.” Natalia said, a smirk crawling across her face as she eyes her brother up and down. “A new friend?”

“Yes, Natasha.” Ivan sighed. “I have a new friend. You don't have to sound so surprised.” 

“He's cute.” She said, her smirk widening. 

“Natasha, don't.” Ivan said, groaning and hiding his face in his hands. 

“And you've already brought him to meet the family.” She said, her eyes sparkling. “It must be serious.” 

“Natasha!” Ivan whined, his face growing hot. 

“Oh, you do like him!” She said, laughing deep from her gut. “This is so precious! I must write Katya!” 

“Please, Natasha, do not write anything to that gossip!” Ivan said, trying to glare at her sternly despite his mortification. “And besides, there is nothing to write. Alfred is simply a friend, a friend who has very important business that I am helping him with.” 

“What kind of business?” Natasha asked. 

“Doctor business.” Ivan answered, not sure how practical, pragmatic Natasha would take his proclamation that he was following some Vault Dweller around trying to cure dFEV. 

“Vanya, do not test me.” Natasha growled. “I will get the information out of you, one way or another.” 

“He's trying to get into West-Tek.” Ivan said, knowing that even that would sound like a joke to her. And he was right. He sat there, face in his hands, as she laughed at him. 

“West-Tek? You mean radioactive Fort Knox?” She said, wiping the tears of mirth out of her eyes. “And how does he expect to do that?”

“With this.” He said, taking the Pip-Boy out of Alfred's bag. “It's a special model, made for West-Tek. Probably while they were working with the government on FEV. Alfred thinks there may be information on how to get in on it, but it's encrypted.” 

Natalia took the Pip-Boy, turning it over in her hands and examining it. “This is why you really came, isn't it?” She said, glaring at him. “You didn't come to see me, you came to have Gilbert look at this piece of junk.” Ivan could do nothing more than hang his head in shame. 

“Nevermind.” Natalia sighed, her shoulders sagging. “You're here now. And this business with the locket is over with, so you have no excuse now.” She held out her hand, piercing him with a stare. “Give it to me. If you can't keep track of it, then you don't deserve to have it. I will keep it here, or send it with a caravan to Katya.” 

Ivan handed over the locket in shame, knowing she was right. He had almost lost it forever, as precious as it was. It shouldn't be wandering the wastes with him, it should be somewhere safe. It should be with one of his sisters. 

“How is Katya?” He asked. He hadn't been reading or answering her letters for the same reasons he'd been avoiding Natasha. He couldn't lie to her, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her the truth either. If anything, telling Katyusha would be harder. Natalia had only gotten angry, Katya would cry. And her tears would probably stain her letter and make it nearly unreadable. And he could never stand when his sisters cried. 

“She will be better when you write her. She has been writing me letter after letter, just to make sure you're not dead. The only reason I knew you weren't was because I was paying caravan guards for information!” She scolded. 

“I will write to her immediately.” He said. “I promise.” 

“You will write to her now, while I track down my idiot husband. It seems he has some work to do.” She said, grumbling as she took the Pip-Boy and left the room. Ivan waited until she'd left to dig a pencil and a piece of paper out of his bag, staring down at the dingy white surface and pushing the dread away. 

_Dear Katyusha, I hope this letter finds you well. I'm sorry...._

He snorted and carefully erased what he had written. It was too stiff, too formal. Katya deserved a more convincing apology than that. 

_Sestra, I hope you're doing well. I've been a terrible brother._

He groaned and balled the piece of paper up, tossing it at the wall. He had been a terrible brother, and a letter wasn't going to fix that. But Katya lived all the way out in California, and he had to make things right somehow. So a letter it would be. He retrieved the piece of wadded up paper and carefully unwadded it, erasing what he had written and starting again. 

_Katya,_

_I know it's been a long time, and I have no right to write to you now after ignoring so many letters. But I just couldn't write you, knowing that I was living a lie. I lost Mama's locket, sestra. The one you trusted me with. I couldn't tell you, and I couldn't bear not telling you. So I took the coward's way out. I distanced myself from you and Natasha for three years because I was too afraid to face you. But recently, someone I've just met has taught me how to be brave again, and even helped me get the locket back. His name is Alfred, and I'm sure that Natasha will be writing to you soon to tell you everything she **doesn't** know about him. All I'll say here is that he's been a good influence on me, and that I think you would like him. I love you, sestra, with all of my heart. I'm so sorry for keeping us apart for such a stupid, selfish reason. I don't know if you can ever forgive me, but I will do anything to earn that forgiveness. _

_Love, Ivan_

He folded up the paper and stuffed it into an old, yellowed envelope. He made sure to write over the address already printed on the envelope, pressing the pencil down hard and going over it a few times to make sure the couriers knew which address was the right one. He would send it out the next time they came across a caravan heading out towards New Vegas. 

He put the letter in the pocket of his coat and peeked in on Alfred, smiling softly as the young man groaned and turned over, obviously not happy with having to lay there. Ivan excused himself, shutting the door softly behind him and wondering where he'd be now if he hadn't literally run into Alfred back in Can Town. With the caravan somewhere between Can Town and Majestic, drinking away his boredom and self-loathing, not answering his sisters' letters and pleas to come see them. Nowhere good.

He could only hope that getting him into West-Tek was enough thanks.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Alfred shot up out of the bed when Ivan came and got him, eager to know if this Gilbert could really crack the encryption on the Pip-Boy and get them one step closer to getting into West-Tek. From what he had heard so far, someone trained by the Brotherhood seemed like their best bet.

The man sitting at the scarred kitchen table with his wife was not at all what Alfred had expected, primarily because he looked nothing like his brother. Where Ludwig was nearly as broad as Ivan though not as tall, and built like a tank, Gilbert was leaner and shorter. He was also uncannily pale, with silvery white hair that made him look older than he was and red eyes that were trained on the Pip-Boy that Ivan had set on the table. 

“Where did you get this?” He asked as Alfred and Ivan entered the room. 

“The junk dealer at 508 Park.” Al said, taking a seat across the table from him and Natalia. “Can you crack it?” 

“I already have.” Gilbert said. “Nothing on there but some coordinates, some medical document I can't make heads or tails of, and a recording.” 

“A recording?” Alfred asked, sucking in a breath. 

“Yeah, we haven't played it yet. We were waiting for you.” Gilbert said. Alfred took the Pip-Boy off the table and turned it over in his hands, his finger hovering over the button to play the recording. He was suddenly nervous, though he couldn't place why. 

“What do you think it is?” He asked, looking around the table. 

“There's only one way to find out.” Ivan said, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Play the recording.” 

Alfred took a deep breath and pressed play. 

_I don't have much time. My name is Dr. Hope Sitwell, and I work in the Advanced Genetics Lab in a West-Tek facility in Dallas, Texas. We were supposed to be a secret. -laugh- I guess the cat's out of the bag. After the military shut down the Pan-Immunity Virion Project, we were supposed to find a way to get it back on track. Hopefully, this time, without causing any unwanted mutations._

_It didn't work, not the way we hoped. We were looking for a way to make Americans immune to Chinese biological agents, but we made a mistake. We created a debilitative strain of our original project. Hoping to turn it into a bioweapon the military might find a use for, we made it airborne. Only, it leaked into the lab. All of the scientists were exposed to high doses of the virus -cough- including me._

_We've been working on a cure in the one uncontaminated lab, but I'm afraid it won't be ready in time. I'm the only one left. I'm shutting the facility down, in hopes that it won't leak out into the rest of the city. -coughcough- I'm going to try to make it through the emergency access tunnel, warn the CDC. But if you're listening to this, I didn't make it. I've included coordinates to the access tunnel, and instructions on how to finish the cure. Take them, and don't let virus get out. The results could be catastrophic. Godspeed._

Alfred took a deep, shuddering breath and ran a shaking hand through his hair. These were the people responsible for dFEV. It was a bioweapon gone wrong. Just another artifact of the Old World, left behind to taunt them. The cruelty hidden under the supposed idyll of the Pre-War world disgusted him, and he longed to put his fist through it. Only, their own short-sighted greed had already done it for him. 

He got up and left without a word, bursting through the door out into the last dying rays of the sun. Tears streamed freely down his face and he let them, too angry to care. The rage built inside him, coursing through his bloodstream until it rent itself out of his throat in a primal scream. He kicked one of Gilbert's scrap heaps for good measure, sending a few cogs and springs flying.

Ivan was behind him in an instant, gently grabbing his wrist and leading him away from the pile of junk. “You'll break your foot.” He said, holding firm when Alfred tried to tug away from him. 

“I don't care!” Alfred snarled, trying in vain to pull his wrist from Ivan's grasp. 

“Yes you do, Alfred.” Ivan said, making him sit on a bench up against the side of the house. “You have more sense than that, Doctor Jones.” 

“Shut up! Shut up!” Alfred cried, finally ripping his arm free and burying his face in his hands. “Just shut up.” He sobbed, his shoulders shaking as he pushed his glasses up on top of his head and wiped at his eyes in a futile attempt to stop the tears. 

“You have every right to be angry.” Ivan said softly, sitting beside him. 

“They did this. West-Tek did this to Matt, to Harper, to who knows how many others. It's probably been leaking out of that facility for hundreds of years.” Al said. “And there's no one left, no one left to blame or bring to justice. Just an empty building.” 

“And a cure.” Ivan said. “That's what you wanted, isn't it?” 

Alfred laughed. “What I wanted? I wanted my brother to be healthy. I wanted to never leave the vault.” His voice was getting higher and louder as he went on, his eyes wide and panicked. “I wanted America to be everything I thought it was growing up. I wanted everything I learned in school to be true, and everything my grandpa told me to be a lie. I wanted him to live, I wanted my dad to live. I wanted-” He cut himself off, taking a deep breath as he fought against the rising tide of emotion that threatened to drown him. 

Ivan's hands were warm through his gloves as they cupped his face, soft violet eyes trained on his. “It's going to be okay, Alfred. You're stronger than all of this.” He said fondly. 

It happened in slow motion, Ivan leaning in, but Alfred was frozen right up until the second his lips were on his. His eyelashes fluttered closed and he melted into Ivan, the weight of the world lifting off of his shoulders for a moment as he leaned into the solid wall of a man. His hands slid up Ivan's chest to clutch his shoulders, and Ivan's own hands found their way to Alfred's waist as the leisurely kiss turned exploratory. 

Alfred tried to kiss frantically, like he was dying and this was his only hope at life, but Ivan was firm in his gentle slowness as he ran his hands up and down Alfred's sides, soothing him. Slowly, Alfred relaxed completely into the kiss, letting Ivan lead him. 

Only then did Ivan pull away, his breath still ghosting across Alfred's lips. Their eyes came open in the same moment, and Alfred had to look away quickly to avoid his gaze. He blushed heavily, scooting away from Ivan on the bench and clearing his throat. 

“Thanks. That, uh, really made me feel better.” He said softly, not looking at Ivan. 

“Any time.” Ivan said, amused. 

“We should go back to Heritage, show my grandma what we found. I'm sure the Frontiersmen will help us.” Alfred said, changing the subject quickly. Any time? 

“First, we should have dinner. My sister will not hear no for an answer, I assure you.” Ivan said, chuckling. “She can be very persuasive, in her own way.” 

“You mean intimidating?” Alfred laughed, embarrassment fading quickly.

“Yes, I suppose I do.” Ivan said, laughing along with him. It felt good, Alfred thought, to just sit and laugh together as the sun went down. But they had work to do, and precious little time. Margeaux would be looking for them, and for the Pip-Boy. Alfred was quiet for a long moment as he wondered how he had missed the signs. 

“Don't think so hard, you'll hurt yourself.” Ivan said, tugging Alfred's ear affectionately and pulling him out of his thoughts. “Let's go inside.” He got up off of the bench and held his hand out for Alfred to take. Smiling softly, Alfred took it and hauled himself up, not dropping it once he was on his feet. 

Ivan entwined their fingers, pulling Alfred back inside the house gently. If Natalia and Gilbert noticed it, they said nothing. But Alfred caught Natalia smirking out of the corner of his eye, her gaze following their joined hands intently.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Later, when dinner and the dishes were done, Natalia cornered him in the spare room.

“What are your intentions towards my brother?” She asked, standing between him and the doorway. She was probably 100 lbs soaking wet, but Alfred still wasn't sure he could take her. 

“Uhh, what?” Was his intelligent answer. 

“You and Ivan. What are you?” She asked, narrowing her eyes. 

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Alfred blurted out, taking a step backwards. “Friends? Maybe?” 

Natalia scowled, and Alfred took another step away from her, but she followed. “What are you to my brother?” She asked again. 

“I wish I knew.” Alfred said, his back meeting the wall as he tried to escape her again. 

“Useless boy.” She scoffed, looking mildly amused. “I will believe you...for now.” She said, her eyes narrowing again. “You will write to me.” She told him, not even pretending to frame it as a request. “Gilbert is too unreasonable to leave this place, and we rarely get visitors.” She said, as if that was explanation enough. He supposed it was, she must get lonely out here with only her husband for company. 

“Speaking of Gilbert, has he seen the suit yet?” Alfred asked. Natalia smirked. 

“I was going to wait until tomorrow. Let him complain a bit more about helping Ivan for free.” She said. “Gilbert absolutely hates my brother, and often complains about him. I want him to think he's justified before I crush him.” 

“Natalia, you scare the crap outta me.” Alfred said, laughing. Natalia just smirked, patting his hand fondly. 

“Good, you are not as stupid as I thought.” She said.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

Gibert certainly didn't look crushed when Ivan showed him the power armor the next morning before they headed out. He looked absolutely ecstatic, pacing around the suit with wide eyes and an even wider grin.

“Are you serious?” He asked, almost breathless as his fingers traced the lines of the suit like one might trace the curves of a lover. “Where did you get this?” He let out a string of curse words in German under his breath, seemingly intent on examining every inch of the thing. 

“Vault 52, we fought a deathclaw for it.” Alfred said. Ivan and Natalia both scowled at him, and the former elbowed him in his bruised ribs, causing a wince. 

“Damn.” Gilbert said, whistling lowly and opening up the suit. “She's in great condition, too.” 

“Don't call that thing a she.” Natalia said, snarling. “I already suspect you love it more than me.” 

Gilbert snorted and strode over to his wife, sweeping her up in his arms and kissing her, hard. “Don't be ridiculous, Natasha.” He said, his tone teasing. “I love you both in different ways.” 

“Oh, you monster!” She cried, swatting at him. He dodged her blows and kissed her again, grinning against her lips. 

“I'm kidding!” He said, squeezing her waist as he pulled back. 

“Now that you have this...monstrosity, I expect you to take me out more often.” She said, pushing him away. 

“Of course, of course.” He said, taking her hand and kissing it. Natasha looked at him out of the corner of her eye for a moment before relenting and giving a small quirk of her mouth that was almost a smile. 

Alfred felt a bit uncomfortable, watching them flirt like that. Clearly, Ivan wasn't feeling any better about it because he cleared his throat and looked at Alfred pointedly as he said “We should go.” 

“Oh, but you just got here!” Natalia said, clinging to her brother's arm. 

“They have better things to do than be here, right Ivan?” Gilbert said, glaring at the man in question. 

“Right.” Ivan said, glaring back. 

“As rude as both of you are being,” Alfred said, glaring between the two of them, “You have a point. We do need to leave. Thank you for having us, Natasha.” 

“Thank you for bringing my Vanya back to me.” Natalia said, inclining her head towards him judiciously, finally letting go of her brother's arm and smoothing down his coat. He turned and swept her up in his arms, hugging her tightly. 

“I will be back, sestra. I will come see you for your birthday, da?” He promised, pressing a kiss to her forehead. 

“You had better, or I will be tempted to bring out my knives.” She hissed, low and dangerous. Ivan reeled back, eyes wide and panicked. 

“I will keep that in mind.” He said, voice an octave higher than normal. 

“See that you do.” She smirked, sauntering back over to her husband. 

“Right...” Alfred drawled, mildly amused at how much of a scaredy cat Ivan was when it came to his sister. “We should go now, got a lotta walking to do to get to Heritage before dark.” 

“You will come with him, on my birthday.” Natalia said. Again, not a request. 

“Sure thing!” Alfred said, grinning brightly as he waved goodbye and turned on his heel, dragging Ivan with him. Gilbert wandered back into the house, but Natalia watched them go until she and the house were nothing more than a speck on the horizon.

~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~.-.~

_”What are you to my brother?_ Natalia had asked.

Alfred mulled the question over, chewing at it like a dog tearing out its stitches. What were he and Ivan to each other? Friends, certainly. They had both said as much, more than once. He hadn't _lied_ to Natasha. But Ivan had kissed him, and he had kissed Ivan back, and that wasn't something he could ignore. 

He tore his eyes away from the cracked road they were walking on to watch Ivan. He was a few paces in front of him, his strong, broad back to Alfred and the tails of his scarf trailing after him. They fluttered in the wind, catching Alfred's eye. 

“Why do you always wear that thing? It's gotta be a million degrees out right now.” He asked in lieu of the question he was really obsessing over.

“My sister gave it to me, before we left her in California.” Ivan answered, stepping around the burnt out shell of a car that had been left to rust in the middle of the road. “Yekaterina, the eldest. Not Natalia.” He clarified. “Natasha and I wanted adventure, and a chance to make better caps, so we signed up with a caravan heading East. Katya has a family, a husband and children, so she did not come. I miss her terribly, so I keep the scarf with me.” 

“That can't be it, man.” Alfred said skeptically. “I love Matt, but I wouldn't wear a sweater he gave me in this heat.” 

Ivan stiffened, his shoulders coming up around his ears in an obvious display of discomfort as he stopped walking. “Alfred,” He started, sounding unsure of himself. “I feel like I should warn you before we...progress any further in our relationship.” 

“Warn me about what?” Alfred asked, stepping into his space but not quite touching him yet, not letting himself think about what Ivan meant by progress, or relationship. 

“Life in the Wasteland is harsh. And you don't do the kind of work I've done in my life without it leaving its mark.” He said, turning to look at the young Doctor warily. 

“What do you mean?” Alfred asked, slipping his hand into Ivan's and squeezing. 

“I have scars, Alfred.” Ivan said, staring down at him as if daring him to run. “A lot of them. The worst are around my neck. I use the scarf to hide them.” 

“Ivan.” Alfred frowned, standing on his tiptoes and pulling the taller man into a hug. “I don't care if you have scars. I care about you.” 

Ivan sighed and wrapped his arms around Alfred, burying his face in wheat-blonde hair. “If you saw them, maybe you would think differently.” He said, caressing the small of his back where the shirt part of his combat armor had ridden up to expose skin. 

“Then let me see them. So I can prove you wrong.” Alfred murmured into the soft fabric of his scarf. 

“Not yet, dorogoy.” Ivan said, carding a hand through his hair. “Perhaps when we get to Heritage. It shouldn't be far now.” 

Ivan stepped back from the embrace, but Alfred stubbornly kept their hands linked, twining their fingers so Ivan couldn't pull away. Ivan smiled and brought their joined hands up to his lips, brushing them across the back of Alfred's hand. They walked like that for awhile, both blushing softly and smiling to themselves. 

But the distant din of screaming voices caught their attention, wiping the smiles off their faces and replacing them with looks of worried confusion. They dropped each other's hands and took up their weapons, breaking out into a run towards Heritage. 

“Do you smell that?” Alfred asked as they approached. Ivan scented the air, brows furrowing. 

“Smoke.” He hissed. “I don't like that.” 

They turned a corner and the city opened up to show them the walls of Heritage as they'd never seen them before. Thick, acrid black smoke rose up from somewhere inside the town like a cloud, blanketing the open space of the park. The gates lay blasted open, people pouring in and out, shouting to each other. 

Alfred spotted Ludwig in the crowd and hurried over to him, grabbing his arm to get his attention. 

“Ludwig! What happened?” He asked over the commotion. The man turned to him with wide, shell-shocked eyes. He looked almost as pale as his brother, and he was shaking slightly. “Ludwig,” Alfred asked again, more gently this time. “What happened?” 

Ludwig shook his head, a tear escaping to roll down his cheek. “The Enclave. They attacked. They took the Ghouls.” He choked out, tears rolling down his cheeks in streams now. “They took Feli.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The thot plickens. Whatever will happen next?
> 
> Just because there's really nowhere in the story to mention it because it's not important: Natalia was in the Brotherhood, too. That's how she and Gilbert met. He was a Scribe, and she was an Initiate who wanted to be a Knight. That might go in the DLC, because I love PruBela so much. 
> 
> Yes, if I do any stories connected to this one, I will call them DLC. It's only appropriate!


End file.
